


The Moonlight Rule

by thefandomsinhalor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Childhood Friends, Domestic, Dream Sex, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Heartbreak, Holidays, Home Invasion, Horseback Riding, Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Touching, Trauma, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 09:53:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 129,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20289517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefandomsinhalor/pseuds/thefandomsinhalor
Summary: Castiel Novak loves living in Manhattan and feels like he has finally reached a more serene part of his life. After years of hard work at The Lazarus, a boutique luxury hotel, a career opportunity he’s been waiting a long time for presents itself. At last, his problems are behind him.That is until he randomly encounters Henry Winchester, the grandfather of his childhood friend, Dean. Castiel and Dean haven’t seen each other in over ten years. Not since Castiel’s parents stopped visiting the Winchester family ranch.Left somewhat contemplative by this blast from the past encounter, Castiel is then altogether shaken by it when he hears a week later of the sudden passing of Mr. Winchester, as well as the surprising repercussions that come along with it.It seems that their recent and unexpected run-in inspired the late Mr. Winchester to make last minute changes in his will: Dean will only inherit the ranch he’s been running, if he marries Castiel and stays married for at least six months.





	1. A Proposition

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Destiel Harlequin Challenge 2019! Thank you to the amazing mods, who put this challenge together. This experience was amazing.  
I saw the prompt and I was immediately obsessed with it. And because I have no self-control, I went totally overboard and here we are. This is SO much longer than I had initially planned, and it kind of drove me a little crazy, but in the end I think it was worth it.  
Thank you to DanicaDust, who has been a massive help. To say the least. Like really. There are no words except thank you!! I’d like to thank Landrala who’s also been supportive and helpful :)

Alone in a large hallway where the walls were plastered with impressive modern art of vivid colors, Castiel was fidgeting on his uncomfortable seat.

His hands were sweaty. His heart was beating fast. His throat was dry.

He did his best to focus on his breathing, thinking nice, soothing thoughts.

Uriel arrived, seemingly as surprised as he was to see him there, and then acknowledged him with a polite nod and took the seat next to him.

“Know what this is about?”

Castiel shook his head.

Uriel took a deep breath and fixed his tie.

They remained quiet, seated side by side for a few minutes, until a door finally opened. They both jumped to their feet and straightened their suits.

Duma stepped into the hallway and kept the door open, letting a group of men and women exit the conference room.

Once her colleagues had left the room, Duma turned towards Uriel and Castiel. “She’ll see you first, Mr. Garrison.” She nodded to them both and then dashed towards the stairway besides the elevators, following the rest of the group.

Castiel and Uriel exchanged looks. Uriel fixed his tie once more, while letting out a short sigh, before he entered the same conference room. He shut the door behind him calmly, thus leaving Castiel alone in the hallway once more.

Remaining on his feet, Castiel briefly pulled on his sleeves, to straighten his jacket. He paced, holding his hands behind his back and looking at the floor, as he felt anxiety rising with every moment.

A considerable amount of time passed. Castiel had then taken his seat back, thinking that sitting down would perhaps help more for his nerves.

Another door opened, one a little further down the hallway, and soon another group, guests of the hotel by the looks of it, was roaming about. Most of them dashed down the hall to the elevators, already in deep conversations with phones to their ears.

He heard the elevator’s soft ring and watched the large group enter it.

A few of them, however, had remained behind in the middle of the hallway, speaking and laughing with one another.

After examining them more carefully, Castiel was then intrigued by this gathering. The two women were wearing dashing military uniforms and one man was wearing an elegant suit, which Castiel thought must have cost a pretty penny. The other man, who had his back turned to Castiel, was also wearing an elegant suit, but it was paired with cowboy boots and a dark cowboy hat. Castiel couldn’t help but smile warmly at the sight.

It wasn’t uncommon, of course, but he had to admit that it had been a while since he had the pleasure of witnessing someone wearing a cowboy hat.

Uriel reappeared into the hallway, after opening the door. He held a relatively fulfilled smile. “Your turn, Novak.”

Castiel finally entered the conference room with Uriel politely shutting the door behind him.

The large room consisted mainly of a massive table in the dead center, with windows showing off an impressive view of the city.

Naomi Schrubben was seated at the very end of the table, waiting for him.

“Welcome, Mr. Novak. Please take a seat.”

Feeling somewhat intimidated by the overall setting of their meeting, Castiel obliged and took a seat not far from where Naomi was seated.

Naomi was apparently still busy skimming through papers, so Castiel remained completely silent and waited patiently for her to begin.

Shortly, Naomi finally put her documents aside and took a good look at Castiel.

“Sorry to meet in this fashion. I see how it might have given you the wrong idea, but I needed to make this happen today and this was the only small window I could find for you, as well as Uriel.”

She paused and slid back the document in front of her, but didn’t open it.

“I’ve had the opportunity to review your files—yours and Uriel’s—over the last few days. I have to say, you two have done very well for yourselves in this establishment. You are both hard workers. Different, but equally hard working.”

Castiel felt his shoulders tighten with tension.

“You two have been dedicated, as I said, and we all know promotions haven’t been much possible, lately. No positions needed to be filled. Until now. I’ve been informed that Mr. Tamiel has accepted a post in Chicago so he can be closer to his family. Which means we found ourselves in need of a concierge.”

Castiel repositioned himself on his seat.

“It wasn’t easy. You both deserve this. But after carefully studying both of your files, I’ve made a decision to recommend Uriel.”

And Castiel felt a pang in his chest.

“That being said, Mr. Novak—Castiel—I have to say I was very impressed when I looked at your file. Your dedication, patience and not to mention your general integrity have not been unnoticed. You came highly praised, not only by your supervisors—the many you’ve had over the years—but by your colleagues and those who worked under you as well. Which says a lot about you as a person and your predisposition as a leader. I knew that you had been with us for a long time, but I was very intrigued, however, when I discovered how long exactly you had been with us. You started at the very bottom, and if I’m to believe what I read here,” she said, her hand resting on her files, “you’ve worked many different positions, in a multitude areas of the hotel over the years. May I ask why?”

“Many of the positions available to me at the beginning were often seasonal. And, um, some of these positions at the beginning were—it was decided I should perhaps be relocated elsewhere.”

“Yes, I saw that and I don’t understand why. It was not at your request. It was management’s, really higher up management, but there evidently wasn’t anything negative attached to it. You seemed to be bounced back and forth, up until a few years ago, when Mr. Inias left. Then you asked to be at the reception, which you did impeccably and moved up to front desk manager. That’s the first time you were able to actually move up the food chain.”

Castiel bit the inside of his cheek.

“Can I ask why?”

Castiel hesitated.

“This is strictly between us. But it’s just—it seems to me that you were often penalized here at the hotel and I don’t understand why.”

Castiel took a deep breath and swallowed. “As I said, the jobs I had at the beginning… that was mainly seasonal. It wasn’t that much of a problem at the time because that was during my studies. I didn’t mind what it was. I just liked the hotel and I needed employment.”

Naomi nodded.

“After my studies, I—I decided to stay at the hotel. That’s when I started going for other higher level posts. Some worked, but very briefly. It seemed that, um, management thought it best to keep me—to limit my interaction with guests. At the beginning.”

Naomi frowned and studied him. “Is this about why you insist on your name tag only displaying your first name?”

Castiel nodded. Naomi pursed her lips. “I see.” She paused a moment and then slid his file to the side. “Well, I’m here to tell you that I don’t care about that, and the reason why I’m mentioning all this is that in addition to Mr. Tamiel’s eventual departure, I’ve also been informed that the hotel will soon have a sister branch near Madison Square Park. It won’t happen overnight, but they are already discussing certain positions and it seems that they would like to favor people who are already under their employment to give the hotel a real chance. And long story short, I got wind that they are looking for a concierge as well.”

Castiel was stunned.

“I know you had your eyes on that position for a while now, and given the fact that you’re already practically doing that as it is as the front desk supervisor—yes, we’ve been paying attention—I figured it is about high time you get a fair chance to advance in your career. I wouldn’t be surprised to see you fill the shoes of General Manager one day, if that’s what you desire. After all, based on the positive feedback I constantly get about you and since that according to your file, you’ve managed to sample nearly every low level entry job of this very hotel, I don’t see how you wouldn’t be perfect for this.”

She stood up, and so did Castiel, following her lead.

“I—I don’t know what to say. Thank you. I hope I don’t disappoint you.”

“Likewise. But I don’t think that will be the case.”

There was a polite knock on the door, indicating that they needed to cut this short.

“This won’t happen overnight, like I said. So, for now let’s leave it at that, and I’ll contact you for more details and a proper meeting where we will discuss salary, holidays and the likes.”

They shook hands.

Castiel thanked Naomi once more for the opportunity and left the room.

A few other employees were now waiting in the hallway. A waiter, bellboy and the event manager. He smiled at them briefly and rushed down the hallway to the stairway door, not believing what had just happened.

As he was going down the stairs, he suddenly stopped and nervously pulled out his phone. Castiel couldn’t help himself. He had to tell someone right away. He called Hannah.

But she didn’t pick up.

Which wasn’t very unusual considering it was in the middle of the afternoon, and she was most likely busy at her job.

He came to a full halt to take a moment to text her properly, asking her if she could talk.

No answer.

He continued down the stairs and tried calling her again, once he finally reached the main floor.

Still no answer, so he decided to leave a voicemail.

“Hey, it’s me. I know, calling is unusual. I know it’s in the middle of the day and you’re most likely busy. But I just got some news. It’s good, Hannah. It’s really good. I—I just wanted to tell someone and you’re the first person who came to mind. Call me when you get this. We have to celebrate.”

He hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment.

It wasn’t like he was magically expecting her to call back immediately, but speaking to her was his biggest wish in that instant.

He knew staring hopelessly at it wouldn’t do much good, and yet, there he was, doing it.

With a sigh, he put his phone back in his pocket, reminding himself to focus instead on the good news he had just received.

News like that didn’t happen to him too often. He had half a mind to return to the stairway and head to the third floor bar room. By this time, he judged that Balthazar would most likely be about to start his shift and perhaps he could at least share this exciting news with someone.

And he was positive Balthazar would be ecstatic for him, considering he had constantly been grilling him to apply to higher level positions for months.

Before doing so, however, he glanced briefly at the front desk to ensure his momentary absence wouldn’t be too much of a problem.

It became clear that it would.

He spotted at the reception desk a very nervous-looking Samandriel speaking to a large group of people.

As he hurried down to help his colleague, Castiel then told himself that it would be better that Hannah would be the first to know, anyway.

He knew he was being silly, but he had gotten it into his mind, that for some reason, she was the one whom he wanted to share it with first, and so he decided that it would be so.

“Hello, I’m Castiel. May I be of assistance?” he calmly said, standing next to Samandriel once he had reached them.

“Oh, Cas,” sighed Samandriel. “Thank goodness.” He gave the group a polite smile and quickly tugged Castiel away from the desk.

“What’s the issue?” asked Castiel.

“They’re angry. And they don’t speak English very well. And I did what you told me—speak calmly and clearly—but they’re getting aggravated. I’m really trying to help, but they just—every word I say seems to vex them even more.”

“It’s okay. What seems to be the problem?”

“There was a mix-up with the reservation. They wanted fifteen rooms, not ten. So I tried to compensate for that. They demanded that all the rooms were to be on the same level. I didn’t ask questions, so I did that, but obviously the only level that makes this possible is—they won’t have the—”

“It means that they can’t have the initial rooms they desired.”

“And they were angry about that, and I tried to explain but—” he gestured helplessly.

“All right.” Castiel gently nudged Samandriel back with him to the desk where they spent most of the remaining half hour seeing to the furious customers that had accumulated at the desk.

Eventually, with patience and perseverance, they succeeded in finding a new arrangement agreeable for everyone, and by the time their guests were leaving in the elevators to their rooms, they didn’t appear as annoyed anymore.

“You can take your break now, Samandriel. I think you’ve earned it.”

“Thank you, Cas. Like, really.” He stood up, and just as he was about to leave, he stopped. “Wait, what was that meeting about? Can—can I ask?”

Castiel opened his mouth, and then shut it quickly. “I—I want to say, but I’d prefer not to jinx it.”

“But it’s good?”

“Definitely has the potential.”

“Good. That’s good. You deserve it. I had a feeling today would be good for you.” And then he turned around and went to the back room.

Castiel frowned for a moment, and then snorted at Samandriel’s odd comment.

The floor appeared to be calm for now, but Castiel knew this would change sooner rather later.

He was tempted to check his phone to see if Hannah had replied. He had been rather occupied since he had texted her, which had left no opportunity to verify.

But one quick look at his phone and...

Nothing.

He put his phone away, disappointed.

He knew that he should be proud of his accomplishment no matter what. And even if Hannah didn’t immediately know about his potential promotion, it wasn’t taking away that it had happened.

But it still bothered him.

Busying himself with clearing the desk of the chaos that had just occurred, Castiel was so focused on the task at hand that he hadn’t noticed the elderly gentleman standing patiently in front of the desk for the last few minutes.

The same elderly gentleman who, in fact, had been carefully observing him from afar since Castiel had reappeared on the main floor.

“As I leave and breathe, Castiel Novak.”

Nearly startled at hearing is full name, Castiel looked up from his desk, puzzled. An older gentleman was looking right at him with a kind smile on his face. It took Castiel a moment before placing him.

“Mr. Winchester, hello.”

Jumping to his feet, he extended his arm and shook his hand. With nobody else around, he joined Henry Winchester on the other side of the desk.

“It’s very nice to see you, sir.”

“Likewise, Castiel.”

He was wearing an elegant suit. With cowboy boots. And was holding a dark hat, too.

“Wait, that was you I saw coming out from the conference earlier.”

“You saw me? I wasn’t sure. I merely caught a glimpse of you when I heard someone say the name ‘Novak.’ It happened quickly, so I wasn’t sure if it was you or not.”

“I didn’t see your face,” said Castiel. “I just noticed the hat and boots, and before you turned around they called me in.”

Henry nodded. “So tell me, how are you, dear boy?

“I’m fine, sir. Thank you,” he said genuinely. “What about you?”

Henry let out a loud short laugh. “Can’t complain. Come here, boy, I need to get a proper look at you.” Castiel took a step closer as Henry Winchester was assessing his appearance.

It had been years, well over a decade, since they had seen each other. Henry Winchester was a tall and slim man. Aside from wrinkles at the edges of the eyes, and that his hair was now white instead of silver, Castiel thought he looked very much like how he remembered him as a child.

“How incredible to see you here. It’s good to see you. How long have you been working here?”

“Years. Over five years.”

“Are they treating you right?”

“Yes, sir. And what about you? What are you doing here? Enjoying your stay?”

“I am, very much so. This place is pretty impressive to look at considering where I’m from.”

“I wouldn’t say that, sir. I always loved the ranch. It was rather impressive from my point of view.”

Henry smiled, nodding. “Still there, you know. It’s changed a bit since then, but it’s still there. I know one grandson who would fall off his horse if he could see you right now.”

Castiel smiled shyly. “How is Dean? And Sam?”

“They’re good. Sam’s a lawyer and lives in town. He’s taller than all of us. And Dean is living on the land, working endlessly on the ranch. He’s helping run the place.”

“An entrepreneur like his grandfather.”

“I don’t know if that’s what I ever was, but _he _certainly is. And what about you? Besides this fine establishment, I mean.”

“Nothing much.”

“No?”

“I—I live in a nice apartment not far from here. I love my job. The people are nice. I appreciate the chance they gave me here.” Henry nodded, and for the briefest of moments Castiel thought he had seen Henry pursed his lips, but if it had happened, it was done very quickly. “I have nice friends. I can’t really complain.”

“And your family?”

“I don’t really—my siblings are—we are pretty much scattered across the globe and our schedules are constantly conflicting. And Father, well, from what I hear, he’s doing okay.”

Henry nodded. “And what about _your _family.” Castiel frowned. “I mean the one you’ll build for yourself, perhaps. If that’s what you wish for.”

Castiel laughed. “Oh, I—I don’t know about that. I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon.” The only one who could feasibly be considered in this scenario at the time would be Hannah, and Castiel knew they were nowhere near that possibility.

And that fact had been very clear to the both of them for a long time.

Henry remained quiet, smiling fondly at him. “Is that so?”

“I’m afraid so, yes.”

“You never know, Castiel. Life might surprise you.”

Not sure what to make of Henry’s last comment, he quickly forgot about it as Samandriel showed up next to him, tapping gently on his shoulder. “Cas, I’m sorry to interrupt, but the guests we discussed earlier have additional questions and request your attention.”

Castiel turned to Henry to apologize, but the man lifted his arm in protest. “Duty calls, I understand.” He put on his hat. “I’ll leave you be. I’m just so happy to have seen you.”

“Likewise, sir. Please, say hello to Dean for me. And Sam, of course.”

Henry paused, seemingly amused, and took one last good look at Castiel. “Consider it done. One day, perhaps, you could grant us a visit. You’re always welcome.”

Castiel nodded firmly. “I’ll definitely take you up on that offer should the occasion ever arise.”

Henry gave him a good hug. “In the meantime, take care of yourself.”

“You as well.”

And just like that, Henry signaled him goodbye by tugging on the edge of his hat and walked towards the front entrance.

“Cas?”

“Yes, right. You stay here and man the front desk, and I’ll see what I can do. What seemed to be the problem?”

After Samandriel had repeated the situation to him, Castiel dashed towards the elevators. He stopped mid-way, however, when he was met by Naomi.

“Was that Henry Winchester you were just speaking with?” asked Naomi.

“Yes.”

“And you know him how?”

Castiel hesitated for a moment. He wasn’t sure what Naomi was implying.

“My family used to stay at his ranch during the summers when I was young.”

“Really? The Winchesters’ Ranch in Montana?”

“Yes. We spent every summer there. I was friend with his grandson—grandsons.”

Naomi was studying him. Castiel was momentarily worried what other questions might follow, now that he had officially brought up the subject of his family, but to his surprise Naomi simply said, “How interesting that must have been. Well, I’ll leave you to whatever crisis you were undoubtedly on your way to deal with.”

The week that followed had kept Castiel busy with work. There had been the typical unexpected problems, notably the plumbing and the Wi-Fi, which had been unaccommodating for both the guests and staff.

The frenzy that had resulted from these inconveniences hadn’t left Castiel with much time to dwell on Henry Winchester again.

But he had caught himself pondering about Dean, once or twice.

And perhaps more than that.

Truth be told, despite the fact they hadn’t seen each other in over a decade, Dean had been someone who had often slipped back into Castiel’s mind over the years.

But since his encounter with Henry, he had to admit that Dean had been a constant cause of reverie for him.

When he thought of him, the only thing he could picture was stunning green eyes. And freckles.

Freckles.

Convinced that at their age Dean’s freckles must have most considerably lessened, unfortunately, and that perhaps his eyes must not have been as green as he remembered them, Castiel wondered if he would ever be able to recognize his old friend at all.

He would soon be surprised to find out how wrong he was about that when not even a week later, he was granted another surprise visit at the hotel.

It was early in the evening and Castiel was about to leave work. He had been eager to do so all day, as later in the evening he was finally meeting up with Hannah. Since the very day he had learned the news, they had planned to go out and share a nice proper meal together to celebrate Castiel’s potential promotion. Given both Hannah and Castiel’s busy (and at times, clashing) schedules, however, they sadly had to postpone their date up until that very evening.

After telling Hannah, Castiel had told the news to only one other person, his friend Balthazar, who, just as Castiel had expected, had been overjoyed for him. He had insisted on buying him a drink since Castiel had told him, but very much like his situation with Hannah, the occasion hadn’t presented itself yet.

As Castiel was weighing if he should stop by the bar room before leaving to have a quick chat with him, Samandriel caught up to him just as he was putting on his light jacket in the staff room.

“Castiel, you’re still here. Good,” said Samandriel. “Someone is asking for you at the front.”

“Me? About what?” he asked, slightly annoyed. “Can you take care of it?”

“No, I mean, they are asking for you. Personally. They know you.”

Castiel froze on the spot. Attempting to not panic, he asked, “Did they give you a name?” Samandriel shook his head. “They look friendly enough. They’re waiting for you in the lobby.”

He nodded to Samandriel and hurriedly followed him with apprehension.

Castiel was worried. He didn’t like unexpected guests. No one had ever asked for him by name. Nearly all his friends worked at the hotel, therefore leaving no surprises there, and the few others he had outside of work had no reason to show up unannounced.

The exception would be Hannah, perhaps, but she had never done this. And everyone at work knew her anyway, because she had accompanied Castiel to multiple staff holiday parties.

The only other possibility, reflected Castiel, would be a family member.

And that would only be likely when hell froze over.

He couldn’t precisely remember when the last time had been that he had seen one of his siblings. Their interactions mainly constituted of the occasional text or email just to inform each other they were still breathing.<strike></strike>

It wasn’t exactly the setting of a warm and loving family, and Castiel had made his peace with that fact long ago.

The second he turned the corner, however, he spotted a man staring at the grand mural over the small waterfall in the lobby.

A man who was wearing a nice dark, blue suit, paired up with cowboy boots and a light cowboy hat.

Castiel stopped dead. Even if he could only see his back, Castiel knew immediately this wasn’t Henry.

“Dean freaking Winchester.”

The man didn’t even need to turn around. Castiel knew it was him. Just by the way he was standing. The way he slid his feet on the floor, pacing as he waited patiently for Castiel’s arrival. The way he kept rubbing the back of his neck every five seconds.

It didn’t matter that they hadn’t laid eyes on each other in over a decade.

He just knew it. His body language, everything about Dean just came rushing back, hitting him like a wave.

But as he continued walking towards him, Castiel told himself that, surely, he must be mistaken, and up until the very last second, he held on to that thought.

And then Dean turned around.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean,” was all he could think of saying, in shock as he was.

“Long time, no see.”

“Yes. It has been.” They both laughed nervously. They observed each other silently, taking in the other’s allure. Castiel was taken aback, thinking for a moment that he was hallucinating. Dean was handsome as ever, with the same cocky grin on his face, yet not in a conceited way at all, but rather looking kindhearted, and still with his beautiful freckles that added a joyous element to him.

And his eyes were as green as he had remembered. Yes, remembered, not imagined.

How he had ever thought he wouldn’t be able to recognize him was beyond Castiel.

The only thing different was his scruff beard, and Castiel thought it was very becoming of him.

As he was wondering what Dean could possibly think of him, Castiel then noticed a beautiful blond woman standing next to Dean, watching them both with a kind smile.

“Hello,” said Castiel. “And is this your wife?” Dean stopped staring at Castiel, realizing he had completely forgotten to introduce his companion.

“I’m Jess,” she said, laughing and extending her hand to greet Castiel.

“Nice to meet you.”

“She’s Sam’s wife,” explained Dean. “Sam’s outside, dealing with the car.”

“So you three decided to visit?”

“No, not exactly. Um, we’re here because of Granddad. Henry. He passed away three days ago.”

Castiel flinched, taken aback. “Dean, I’m—I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

Dean nodded shyly. “Thank you.” They both looked at each other awkwardly, not knowing what else to say.

Castiel was genuinely hurt and saddened at the news. Seeing Dean standing in the lobby was already an unexpected event for the day, but learning of Henry Winchester’s death affected him. Even if he hadn’t properly seen the man in so long, knowing he wouldn’t be able to do so ever again was a painful notion.

“You seem surprised and upset,” said Dean, studying his face.

“Yes, I—I just saw him barely a week ago.”

Dean smiled. “Yes, he mentioned that.” He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “That’s—that is actually why we’re here,” said Dean, uneasy. He was fidgeting on his spot and kept rubbing his hand on his neck. “Cas, um, I know you’re working right now and you probably have plans this evening, but is it possible that we could sit down and talk at some point?” He cleared his throat and continued looking straight at him, even though he seemed uncomfortable for the first time since he had arrived. “I need to tell you something. It’s very important. And urgent.”

Castiel, confused, but intrigued, nodded. He still had hours left before he needed to meet Hannah, and undoubtedly a chat with Dean wouldn’t delay him at all.

Or so he thought.

“Perfect timing. I was just clocking off. Are you staying at the hotel?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect, once Sam joins us we can all go to the main dinning room—”

“In private,” added Dean. “I mean, just—just you and me. For now.”

Castiel looked back between Dean and Jessica.

“Sam and I will go have a meal, and you two are welcome to join us after your discussion,” said Jessica. “I’ll go find Sam and we’ll take care of our registrations,” she said to Dean, nudging him in his ribs. “Nice to finally meet you, Castiel,” she added with a big smile, and then she dashed to the main desk.

Not sure what Dean had in mind when he had said “private,” Castiel suggested the terrace balcony on the third floor, next to the bar room. Dean liked the idea, so they made their way to Castiel’s favourite spot of the entire hotel. It was generally quiet, particularly this time of year, and Castiel liked the rustic décor with the large plants. It was a little less formal than the other areas in the hotel and he always felt more comfortable there.

Crossing the bar room, Castiel tried his best to ignore Balthazar who was standing behind the bar, smirking at him with a lifted eyebrow.

After Dean and Castiel were seated at a table, Castiel offered him something to drink. 

“Yes,” said Dean. “And you’re gonna need one too. Trust me.”

Nearly dreading the conversation, Castiel busied himself with examining the beverage options, even though he knew them by heart.

But before they even got the chance to place their order, a set of drinks arrived at their table for them.

“It was Balthazar’s idea, sir,” said the waiter, before hurrying back to the bar.

Castiel shot an exasperated look at Balthazar, who, behind the bar, was giving him the thumbs up and winking at him with a wild smile.

“Friend of yours?” asked Dean, as he picked one of the drinks and tasted it.

“Ignore him,” sighed Castiel. “He’s harmless.”

Dean nodded and returned his entire focus to Castiel. “It’s good to see you, Cas.”

“Yes, same. It’s a nice surprise.”

Dean swallowed. He repositioned himself on his seat while clearing his throat.

“You didn’t receive anything from my grandfather—like a letter—this past week?”

Castiel shook his head, intrigued.

“Okay, um. I thought you might have and—but now, okay, I—I don’t know how to say this. It’s—this is weird.” He retrieved an envelope and from under his coat.

He looked at Castiel a moment with shifty eyes, pondering one last time on his options. He nervously took another sip of his drink.

“Dean?”

He took a deep breath. “Um, you were mentioned in Granddad’s will.”

Castiel blinked. “What? How?” He stared at Dean incredulously. “And why?”

“Um, it’s kind of complicated,” said Dean, biting his lip. “Look the whole thing is here,” he said, presenting the envelope. “This is a copy for your own benefit, but for now, I’ll spare you from reading the lawyer jargon and just tell you what’s what.”

Castiel nodded.

“So Granddad was very generous and he left Sam and me a considerable amount of money, and his shares in most of his enterprises. With just that alone, we have nothing to complain about. He did the same with many other people he worked with over the years, which I’m not surprised one second about because that’s who he was.” He took a pause and rubbed his neck. “He also left me the deed for his house and everything in it, as well as many other residences on the land and the land itself as well.”

“I’m very happy for you. That’s good, Dean.”

“Yes, of course. No question there. I’m even surprised he didn’t split it in two with Sam. But Sam, of course, is fine with it considering I’m the one who works at the ranch. And like I said, we’re really lucky. We won’t want for anything. The, um, the only thing missing is the ranch. Technically speaking, he left that to me as well. There was just one condition attached to it.”

Castiel waited patiently.

“Um, in the will, Granddad, he—he—basically it was said that I would be able to fully inherit the ranch, and everything about it, if I was married to you.”

Castitel, stunned, did not move a muscle and continued staring at Dean bluntly.

And remained speechless.

With Castiel’s silence, Dean continued. “He listed a few rules attached to it as well, which I’ll get to in a minute, but the most important one, I think, is that there is a limit attached to it. Like this would have to happen within the first year following his death, and the marriage needs to last for a minimum of six months.”

“Six months?”

“Yes. Then, that’s it. I’d—you would still need to sign a prenup,” he said awkwardly, “but that’s juts for—anyway, that’s, um.” He cleared his throat. “But—six months, yes. And according to the rules, the moment we are married, I should be considered to be acting as the owner of the ranch. But if we don’t, like, if we break off the marriage before the six months, or if any of the other rules are broken, then the deal’s off because the condition hasn’t been met accordingly. Sort of. Let’s just say the six months are like the grooming and internship so-to-speak. I will be able to run it, which is more or less what I’ve been doing over the past years, only no major decisions about the ranch will be allowed during that period. Like—it’s complicated, but—yeah.”

Castiel still didn’t know what to say, so he then took a big swig of his drink as well.

“Cas, say something. Please,” added Dean, clearly panicking.

Castiel had a lot of questions, but the first one he asked was, “This is a joke, right?”

Dean held his breath.

And then the questions started pouring from Castiel’s mouth. “Why would he do that? Why not simply give you the ranch? Why implicate me at all? _Me_? And what do you mean by ‘other rules?’”

“Um. There—there are a few rules. It’s all listed in there,” he said, tapping on the envelope again. “The first one being that we’d have to be married for six months.”

“And?”

“And during that same period we’d have to live under the same roof. We’d have to go on at least two holidays together.” While the notion of living under the same roof would bring its own set of problems, giving where they both lived, taking off on a holiday with Dean being set as a regulation, on the other hand, truly confused Castiel. “It can’t be an open marriage,” continued Dean. “And we would have to share a meal once a day. Stuff like that.” He studied Castiel awkwardly and then added, “Oh, and um, I—it—we would also have to, um, share a bed.”

Castiel let out a nervous laugh.

“Just—just sharing, not, you know. I know it’s weird, I’m—I’m actually trying to find a loophole, but, anyway, yeah.”

“Dean, I—I—”

And Castiel stopped, overwhelmed and utterly disconcerted by the whole idea that was being hinted at. Examining Dean glumly, Castiel was feeling a pit in his stomach growing. He understood why Dean would evidently be willing to follow through with this plan, as it was his family ranch. If the situation would have been reversed, Castiel admitted he most likely would have done the same.

But this was still asking a lot of both of them, and Castiel didn’t even know all the details yet.

As if Dean had been reading his mind, he cleared his throat once more, and continued speaking. “I know this is totally insane. And honestly, if the situation would be different, I—I would not have—but like I said, it’s complicated.” He took a deep breath and rested on his elbows, leaning in and adopting a serious tone.

“Look, the truth, Cas, is that the ranch is—we’re fine, we’re thriving more than ever, but we’ve had issues. For the past few years, big mistakes were made. So big, in fact, that we’ve started wondering if it was more than just bad luck.”

Castiel leaned back in his seat. “You think there’s internal sabotage.”

“We did. So much that a few months back, we started looking into it. There’s a lot of things that don’t add up. And it dates further back than we initially thought. Long story short, it looks like we have more than just one mole. The ranch is okay, it’s safe, but…That’s always been Granddad’s baby. He’s had many other businesses, a few overseas in fact, but the ranch…it’s his. And while it expanded, he managed to keep it exactly how he wanted it. I think that’s why we stand out so much. We constantly have offers to buy and to invest, which is why many of our current investors often felt that we should go bigger. And the most obvious move to do this would be to make it a public company instead of a private one.”

He lifted his hand. “I cannot press this enough that this was the last thing Granddad wanted for the ranch. He’s been pressured into it for years and he always put his foot down.”

Dean let out a sigh. “Look, this is...this is a mess. On the one hand, there’s clear signs that people are trying to take us down and acting from within, and on the other, there’s greedy investors and whatnot who just want to turn this into something else to increase their bank account.”

He rubbed his hands over his face quickly. “And then there’s the ranch workers, my employees, to think about. I mean, I’ve known most of them my entire life. They’re family. Most of them live on the property. I can’t just—I owe them more than that. If I knew whoever would gain control of the ranch, even if it wouldn’t be me, would do everything in their power to keep it like that, the ranch and the personal, I would be fine with it. I would just continue working at the ranch as always and make my way to the top with the hope that I’d be running it one day. That’s what I’ve been doing so far anyway. And I was fine with that. But now that Granddad is gone, according to the will, if I don’t step up the ranch will be divided between a large group of people, who I just learned that many of them are on top of the list of suspects and I—”

He leaned back into his seat and grabbed his drink. They both remained silent, mulling everything over. Castiel watched Dean gulping his glass down.

“I know how this sounds. It’s nuts. But I’m desperate. You would literally save my life. And the workers too.”

“Dean, believe me. I really want to help you, but this is—I would have to uproot my entire life. Not to mention, married? I’m—I’m kind of seeing someone. It’s complicated, but... And I’d potentially lose my job. Friends. Did I mention my job?”

“I know, I know. I think I can help with that. But in any case, I get that this is massive and that it is why I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t get nothing either. Even with the, um, prenup.”

“What do you mean?”

“Okay, well first, during the six months, I’ll cover all your expanses, here and at the ranch, of course. Your apartment and other stuff will be paid. So that way you won’t have to lose your apartment for when you—when you come back. I will also pay you three time your current salary.”

Castiel stared at him. “What? Why?”

“And,” continued Dean, “because we will be married, it means that all your debts, such as your student loans, will be mine as well, and I’ll gladly take care of them.”

Castiel held his breath.

“How do you—”

“Very few people don’t have student loans, Cas. There’s a bunch of other things too that I listed as suggestions, but I guess, I’ll leave it to you to check. And, please, if—if there’s something you’d like to add, let me know. Really, anything.”

“But Dean, what about my job, I can’t just—just leave.”

“I did research and you can ask for a sabbatical leave, especially if you insist on an unpaid one. Which is why I suggested I’d take care of your salary in the meantime. I have the info here,” he said, dropping another envelope. “It’s all here, there’s more if you need I’ll send you a link via email. But the point is, you could ask. There’s a bunch of reasons listed that you can use, and I highlighted those that I think could actually be helpful for you and your career as well.”

While Castiel still didn’t know what to say, he had to admit that he was impressed Dean had put all this together. Even if the proposition was still absurd, his arguments were anything but weak.

“And at the ranch, you can do whatever you want as long as it follows Granddad’s rules, of course. You can work at the ranch, in whichever area you’d like. Be it the administration, or anything else. You can even find a job elsewhere than on the ranch too if you want. We are kind of far from everything else, but it’s doable. Mom used to do it.”

Castiel remembered Mary leaving the ranch every other day in the morning during the summer.

“And if you just want to chill and take a break, that’s fine too. Honestly, if I were you, I’d try to see it like this: you’ll get a fully paid six months vacation in Montana. And then some.”

Castiel let out a sigh. This was a lot of information that he had to digest all at once.

One element, however, still puzzled him.

“Why would Henry do this?” repeated Castiel.

Dean shook his head while sighing. “I don’t know. I—I was given a letter. From Granddad, I mean. I guess to him it—um, it was supposed to explain why, but it didn’t. It did, but…In his letter he mentioned that he had written you one as well.”

Castiel leaned his head back. “That’s why you asked me if I had received anything earlier.”

“Yes. But since you didn’t even know he had passed away and that you were obviously surprised to see me here…I thought maybe you simply hadn’t read it yet. But you didn’t receive it….Which is strange.”

Pondering on the missing letter, Castiel nodded absentmindedly. He lifted his eyes to meet Dean’s and was hit with a wave of fondness spreading through his chest as Dean was looking at him with pleading, yet compassionate and familiar eyes.

“So will you?” he said gently. “Will you marry me, Cas?”


	2. And a Decision

Exhausted and quite frankly in disbelief of the evening he had just had, Castiel was sitting quietly at the bar, sipping his drink alone.

After Dean’s proposal, Castiel had anxiously asked Dean if he could think about it first.

Dean, of course, had understood and hadn’t been surprised at all by Castiel’s request. He had reminded him that he was staying at the hotel, and to contact him any time he wished if he had any additional questions of the like. He had also encouraged him to discuss it with friends and a lawyer as well, fully aware that this was a big and sudden decision.

“Just—um, time is of the essence,” Dean had said, looking nearly embarrassed. “I know it’s crazy and quick, but I don’t have a choice. It’s about the people there too. I hate to say it, but I need an answer ridiculously fast so I know which way to go.”

“I’ll think about it tonight and get back to you tomorrow. Would that be all right?”

“Perfect, yes. Thank you. Like I said, talk to a lawyer. Especially about the—about the—”

“Prenup,” said Castiel, finishing his sentence.

Dean nodded.

“That’s not the part that—I get it, Dean. Don’t worry about that.”

“Still. Just—just talk to friends. Check up on the info I gave you. Sleep on it. And I’m here if you have questions.”

Castiel had nodded.

Dean had stood still, studying Castiel, as if he had been taking notes of every little detail about him, until he had finally said, “In any case, it was good seeing you, Cas. I, um, I wish it would have been under different circumstances, obviously, but…I’m glad I got to see you.”

“Likewise, Dean.” He had wanted to add that they should have attempted a reunion earlier, but given the situation at hand, he decided to keep that last part to himself.

They had said goodnight awkwardly, and Castiel had watched him exit the bar room, completely addled by the turn of events.

His job. Hannah. The city. The ranch. Dean. Student loans. Marriage.

His job.

His job.

His job.

Dean.

Sighing deeply, he finished his drink and dropped it on the counter, wondering what to do.

“Cas, what’s up?” asked Balthazar.

“Another round, please. That’s what. Double this time.”

Balthazar lifted an eyebrow and poured him his drink. But he didn’t leave him be. He remained on his spot, watching his friend. When he finished drinking his other drink, Castiel frowned at Balthazar, noticing that he was gawking at him.

“Don’t you have customers? It’s bad to ignore clients.”

“The place is nearly empty,” he said, gesturing around, “and you’re off the clock, so you can’t order me around.”

“Right. One, I wouldn’t order you around. And two, like you’d listen to me, anyway.” Castiel chuckled, stopped dead, let out a sigh and rested his head on the counter.

“Bloody hell, Cassie. Spill it. Who was that dashing man you were with? What is going on?”

“Nothing. No one, just—nothing.”

“An ex? I know all your exes. Don’t know that one. Is he an ex?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not.”

“Then who? What’s going on?”

“I—you won’t believe me. I don’t even believe it.”

“Try me.”

Castiel lifted his head up again, letting out a deep sigh. His elbow on the counter, he rested his chin on one hand, while the other was holding his drink near his mouth.

“Basically, the grandfather of my childhood friend left him his ranch, which is their family’s legacy, but can only inherit it if, and only if, he marries me and we stay married for six months,” he said, then swallowed the rest of his drink.

“What the—really? Do people really do this?”

“Apparently. And a few others things, like some rules and potential corporate sab—stuff, but yeah.”

“Huh.” Balthazar looked upwards as if he was deeply reflecting on the matter and then said, “So when’s the wedding?”

“What?” barked Castiel. “You’re kidding, right? Like, I’m not—I can’t go through with this. It’s fucking nuts. I’d have to leave my job. The city. For what?”

“He didn’t offer you anything?”

Castiel retold in length everything Dean had told him while Balthazar poured him another drink. He even handed his friend the envelope that Dean had given him.

After Castiel had finished his tale, he sipped quietly from his drink as Balthazar examined all the documents from the envelope.

“And you’re saying no to this gift because?”

“Gift? You call this a gift?”

“It’s bloody brilliant. Why not?”

“Jesus, I don’t know. Let’s start with my job. It just got hinted that I might be up for a significant promotion, as I told you,” he whispered, glancing around, suddenly nervous about his surroundings. “I’ve been waiting for this since…forever, and it’s finally here. What am I supposed to do? Just let it go?”

“Cas, that will be months from now. I reckon you’d have time to go, come back and the place won’t even be near opening day yet. So what does that matter?”

“But—”

“Also,” continued Balthazar, “your husband-to-be is right about the sabbatical leave. You’d definitely qualify, especially with the promotion Naomi hinted at. It pretty much implies your value to this place. All you’d have to do is fill up the form. You can ask for a paid sabbatical leave, but given the length would be six months, I’d suggest you ask for the unpaid one instead. And say whatever you want, if you go with that option, and give them all the legit reasons Dean has found here—which are all career related in terms of research and personal growth alike, you’d have a good chance.”

He was still skimming over the documents. “And even if it’s unpaid leave or you quit, Dean’s got you covered for the next six months, which is bloody brilliant of him, so you really don’t have much to worry about that.”

“Nothing to worry about? What about me losing my job isn’t worrisome?”

“Cas, I—”

“No. Balthazar, this is—I know everyone says a job is just a job, and I’m aware that it isn’t, like, the most glorious one either, but I like it. And I’ve worked so hard just to get here despite—despite everything.

He pulled on his tie, feeling suddenly and officially overworked.

“Look, Cas. I get it. I know how it’s complicated for you. But I told you. I think you have a shot at this. Just fill up the form and ask Naomi. How about you start with that and then you’ll see what’s what.”

Castiel bit his bottom lip. “It’s not just about the job too, you know. There’s a lot of other stuff that…”

“Oh right, I forgot. You mean the part where you’ll be chilling on an awesome ranch, surrounded by money, with your husband? I repeat, why the hell are you not saying ‘yes’ to this?”

“Besides the very obvious reason that it is absolutely bizarre?”

“It will only be weird if you make it so. Huh, okay, I can see how that might be a problem.”

“Thanks.”

“Cassie, this could take care of a lot of problems. Your student loans alone. I know people who would sell their soul for a deal like that, and they wouldn’t even get half of the other compensations you’re getting. Nor would they be able to do all this next to that tall refreshing glass of water like Dean.”

“That’s not the point, Balthazar.”

“Then it should definitely be one. What else do you have for dumbass arguments?”

“Hannah?”

Balthazar rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Hannah is to be considered, Balthazar. I know you don’t like her, but—shit!”

Startled, Balthazar froze, looking at his friend who was panicking before him. Castiel stood up from his stool clumsily, and retrieved his phone, swearing heavily still.

He had numerous notifications, including many texts messages and missed phone calls from Hannah.

He shut his eyes for a second, absolutely furious with himself, and called her.

“Where the hell are you?” she answered.

“Hannah, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Something came up. I…I’m sorry.”

“You do realize this was for you, right? Like we’re supposed to be celebrating for you.”

“I know.” His hand was over his forehead. “I’m sorry, but som—”

“I can’t believe you, Castiel.”

“I know. I’m sorry. But I need to tell—”

“You drag me here, to this—place, I’m trying to be nice and you bail on me.”

Castiel rubbed his eyes. “I said I’m sorry. This was really an—something hap—”

“You always complain that I don’t make time for you. And then you do this.”

Castiel could feel the anxiety and confusion rising. She went on a list of reproaches, and before he could help himself, he cut her off. “Hannah, I’m sorry. I said I was sorry. I know I disappointed you, and I suck and everything, but I can’t do this right now.”

And he hung up the phone, dropping it on the counter. He finished his drink and buried his face in his hands.

Balthazar was still standing there with a watchful eye.

“Don’t,” said Castiel, exasperated.

“All I’m going to say is that this is why I don’t think she deserves to be considered in your decision. But maybe I’m wrong, and if she is who you say she is, and definitely who you deserve, she should support you in this,” he said, dropping the envelope in front of him.

Castiel hated to admit it, but as the list of notifications piled on his phone with the angry texts she was sending him, Balthazar was probably right about this one.

“Look, this is up to you, of course. But I know a guy. He’s a lawyer and a friend of mine. He owes me one. I’ll give you his number,” he said, typing on his phone. “Call him first thing tomorrow morning and have him look at it, if it helps. Do that and fill up that form like I told you, no matter what you decide. But Cas,” he said, with a long pause, “I don’t see this as a bad thing at all. Even with the money, job—yours and Dean’s—all this aside, I think it would be good for you to just get out a little.”

Castiel let out a deep sigh and picked up his jacket. “I’m gonna go now, because God help me, you’re starting to make sense.”

“I always bloody do, and don’t you forget it!”

After a short break in the washroom, where he had the good sense to pour cold water over his face, he hurried down the elevator, with the sole desire to get home and sleep.

The bright light of the lobby felt harsh to his eyes, which he thought was a big indication of his state. He wasn’t exactly drunk, far from it, actually, but he wasn’t sober either.

Heading towards the staff room, which would then lead to the side exit reserved for the employees, Castiel was stopped by Hael, who often subbed as a night clerk at the reception.

Apparently, a mail carrier had a delivery for him not even an hour ago. Hael handed him a bright red envelope.

No return address was listed, but the address and his name were handwritten on it. And based on the stamp, Castiel had a pretty good idea what it contained. He thanked Hael, put the letter in the inside pocket of his jacket and left.

Curious to know what on earth Henry Winchester could have possibly written to justify asking such a thing, of him and Dean both, reading the letter was now a priority.

But he wanted to do so while clear-minded and he was everything but in that precise moment. The fresh, yet hot air, on this early September night, was somewhat helping his condition. Thus, he decided to take the scenic route home.

After a long walk, with the effect of alcohol somewhat subdued, he finally arrived home.

He dropped his keys on the counter, poured himself a glass of water and dropped on his couch.

Twisting the envelope between his fingers, Castiel hesitated on opening it or not.

He wanted to read the letter.

No matter what, he would read it.

He was simply debating if he should make up his mind about Dean’s proposal first. As far as he could tell, even though it sounded nonsensical, what Dean was asking wasn’t utterly unacceptable either.

Supposing that everything went accordingly, helping Dean with this endeavor wouldn’t be the worst thing he could do.

In fact, it would be the opposite.

And just like that, he knew he was leaning towards saying yes.

He wanted to accept Dean’s proposal.

He opened the envelope.

Dear Castiel Novak,

If you are reading this, it means that I have passed away and that you must have been notified of a certain condition in my will. If not, I’ve taken the liberty to include a copy, particularly the part where you are concerned, within this envelope.

I am aware how confusing this must be. I assure you, I am fully serious with my intentions and mean it as a service to help you, as well as a favor to me.

My dear boy, I always appreciated your family visiting us.

Your fate, and the one of your family, was cruel and unfair. I tried to help your father—I tried to help every one of you as much as I could—but I am afraid too many bad things at once destroyed his spirit to make him see it. I often thought I should have tried harder and feel regret every time I think of this failure.

Despite the fact that your father severed ties many years ago, I never stopped caring about him and your family. I know many would call me a fool to think so, but to this day, even with everything, he remains one of my very best friends. And I am glad to have known him.

Your father, despite his young age at the time, helped me when I started my ranch. My father, and even his father before him, had owned the land and the ranch, and had struggled immensely with it. So much so that when I inherited it, I considered selling it. But then I met your father and he convinced me otherwise. He brought me so many clients and potential investors. He had an impressive network at his disposal and was eager to help. The ranch might have bloomed more than I ever thought possible, particularly because of Dean’s ingenuity, over the last decade or so, but why we were ever on the map, why I managed to keep ownership of this place, was because of your father. I owe him. I’ve tried to repay him since then and he has been eternally stubborn.

I’m hoping his son isn’t as so.

I know, until just recently, we haven’t had time to officially catch up, but I kept my eye on you. I did. Because I’ve always considered you like family.

Which is what brought me to this idea.

You are brilliant, smart, professional and capable. You’ve done extremely well for yourself, which I had no doubts you would.

Your expertise with your work (and yes, I really do mean this, as I inquired about it through people whose opinions I highly trust) could, I think, be extremely beneficial to Dean and the ranch. I think if you follow through with my request, even if only for six months, your presence and help at the ranch would do wonders to the place, and would give you an incredible opportunity to take on more responsibilities as well.

That being said, I seem to recall that this particular line of work was not what you had initially intended in life. I’m hoping that perhaps the change of scenery will offer you some insight on this matter, and whichever conclusion comes of it.

But most and foremost, I did it for you both. In particular for Dean.

Dean would never admit it, but you were his favourite person growing up. He longed for summer vacations, not because of the season or because school was out, but because you and your family always visited us.

Dean cares for you. He always has. I know he will be fair to you in your arrangement.

At the very least, it would give me great relief to think that he won’t be alone and have a friend—his first and oldest friend—with him during the harsh period I’m afraid is awaiting him.

His instinct will be to ignore the pain and bury himself in work.

That was what he did when his parents died and to my great shame, I let him do it.

This is not what I want him to do this time.

And he will try to do it. I have no doubts that Sam and Jessica, as well as everyone else on the ranch, will try to help him, but he’s stubborn.

I think you could do it. I know it must seem improbable to you because you haven’t seen each other in so long, and it might also seem quite unfair of me to ask you this. You might feel pressured by the responsibility, but I assure you, I wouldn’t have asked this of you if I didn’t think you could do it. Castiel, dear boy, if anyone could reach him, it’s you.

He will listen to you. To your ideas. To your feelings.

I hope you are well.

Thank you,

Henry Winchester.

After finishing reading, Castiel was surprised how deeply touched he felt. He was more confused than ever, and was also partially annoyed with Henry to demand such an important task of him.

And yet, he was sitting on his couch, with a lump in his throat, fighting tears.

Castiel understood what Dean had meant when he had claimed that his letter had failed at a full and clear explanation for Henry’s action.

While Henry asked him to be there for Dean, stating that he valued his skillset and also wanted to help him because of his family—which were all good reasons for Castiel to be part of Dean’s life and aid him with the ranch—none of this actually explained why they needed to be married in order accomplish this, however.

And it certainly didn’t explain why they needed to share a bed.

Eccentricity aside, Castiel had to admit that the idea of taking a break and heading to Montana with Dean was no longer preposterous to him.

If anyone would have told him a day ago that he would have seriously considered this option, he would have heartily laughed in their face.

So, as incredible as it sounded, Castiel, sitting on his couch in the middle of his quiet apartment, was acknowledging that he had made his decision. 

He was going to accept.

Yes.

And the moment he realized it, a smile grew on his face.

But before giving Dean a definite answer, Castiel had to tend to a few things first. Like calling the lawyer in the morning.

Which he did bright and early. It was a quick call, considering Balthazar had apparently taking it upon himself to inform his friend right away of the situation. Simultaneously appreciative and annoyed by him, he thanked him nonetheless.

While his newly appointed lawyer was revising everything, Castiel undertook the other important item on his to-do list: speak to his supervisor.

When he went to inform Naomi of his situation, however, he found Bartholomew, from Human Resources, seated in her office.

He briefly and politely asked if he could speak with her about an urgent matter after her current appointment.

But because Bartholomew was notoriously known for sticking his nose into everyone’s business, he suggested that Castiel speak freely in his presence if the matter was so critical.

And while anyone else would have been turned down after such a suggestion, as it was within Castiel’s right to have this discussion privately between him and Naomi, Bartholomew, being nosy as he was, had always possessed a talent to slither himself into matters that didn’t concern him. Be it personal or professional.

And for some reason, no one ever questioned this issue. Or seemed to be bothered by it.

Including Naomi. Instead of declining Bartholomew’s suggestion, she simply informed Castiel that her schedule was completely booked and that she wouldn’t be able to speak with him until much later in the afternoon.

If no additional predicament came to light. Which was very unlikely.

“Unless, of course, you don’t mind telling me quickly right now,” she added. With no mention of Bartholomew giving them privacy.

Which didn’t surprise Castiel one moment.

Time being of the essence, Castiel decided that he unfortunately would simply have to plead his case with Bartholomew present.

He was brief and direct to the point: an old friend needed his help and if he agreed, everyone would gain something about it. He also followed Dean’s suggestion to present it as an opportunity to take this time away from the hotel as a learning experience, and obtain skills, which could later benefit him still at the hotel when he would return.

And he had been very clear to stress this point: he was planning on coming back.

“I understand this is very unusual. I also evidently know that it might mean I will have to pass on the very generous promotion down the line. This I regret greatly. I hope you know I truly appreciate the opportunity and that you don’t see this as ungratefulness. It’s simply an issue of timing.” He cleared his throat, after pausing. “But I think this would also be a great opportunity to learn.”

“Learn?” said Bartholomew. “Learn what?”

“I believe every opportunity is subject to a learning experience, sir. Even if it doesn’t appear so at first.”

Castiel was sure Naomi was smiling at the corner of her mouth.

“Even so, I thought you said what they own is a ranch,” said Bartholomew. “How is that going to help you?”

“It is part of it, yes. They have boarders, but it is more than this. They rent cabins and cottages year long to visitors too. And I learned they also have rooms available in the main building now, for people who prefer the likeness of a resort.”

“In the middle of the mountains and snow.”

Castiel swallowed. He was actually vexed at that comment. “Many seek the calm and quiet. I read the research my friend gave me, and I did my own last night. It is actually one of the highest grossing estate over the last decade.”

“In that region?”

“The country, sir.”

Bartholomew frowned. “It would have been far more impressive if you would have worked directly under Mr. Henry Winchester himself, then. He’s the one who built this so-called empire. Not his grandson.”

“It is my understanding that Dean is very capable.”

“Capable. Yes, he acquired the useful skill of inheritance, it seems.”

Castiel opened his mouth to reply, but shut it quickly. After taking a moment to compose himself, he said, “It is Dean who came to me with this information. Not a lawyer or a representative. He came here, himself, accompanied by his remaining family members, even though they must have a million other obligations they should be dealing with at the moment, including Mr. Winchester’s funeral. He spoke to me. Presented me with his research. _His _business proposal. It’s not simply a matter of owning the ranch for him. It’s about keeping the authenticity of the place and the work ethic they have established for their employees and guests. If the only thing Dean cared about was the amount of money in his bank account, he wouldn’t have bothered with any of this. I think that speaks a lot of his methods and character. “

“Caring still doesn’t equal competence. And I don’t see how any of this is a good idea for you,” said Bartholomew.

And it was with this last comment, that Castiel knew, for sure, how he felt about his decision.

“I—I’m sorry, you misunderstand me. I wasn’t asking for your permission.” Castiel stuck to his impassive face. “I am doing this no matter what. Because it is the right thing to do. Because I want to help my friend. And I truly believe I would learn from this experience. Which is why I wanted to tell you in person, beforehand,” he said, looking straight at Naomi, “because I care about this job too. I love the people and the hotel. I do not wish to leave, or to make you think that I am ungrateful of being here. But I know how this works. I am aware it is short notice and, like I said, unusual, but I have to do this.”

He retrieved two documents from his bag.

“This one is a request for a six months unpaid sabbatical. The length is unusual, but so is the reason behind it. Considering that it would be unpaid, with the exception of temporarily losing a devoted employee, who has every intention of coming back, I don’t think you’re losing much.”

He switched to the second document. “If the first one is unacceptable, this one is my letter of resignation. As I have to leave immediately, I also state that I understand I will have to deal with the penalty of failing to comply for the two weeks notice.”

They didn’t look pleased.

“I would much prefer if you’d pick the first one, but I understand if you decide not to. I—I’ve worked here for many years. I never took a sick leave. I’m always ready and glad to help. I’ve never asked for anything and you know what that upcoming promotion would have meant to me. Jeopardizing this would be out of the question and yet, I cannot ignore this.”

They remained quiet for a moment, until Naomi finally picked up the second document and scanned it. Castiel held his breath.

She handed it back to him. “We won’t need this one, Mr. Novak.”

“Wait a minute,” said Bartholomew.

“It’s done,” she told him. “Castiel is under my care and I say he’s good for it. Thank you for you time, Mr. Novak. We will contact you for more details, but for now, let’s just say we will see you back here in six months time.”

Castiel took back his letter of resignation and nodded. “Thank you.”

And before he was out the door, she added, “Make it count. Don’t make me regret this.”

Castiel was relieved that he had at least managed to secure his employment until his return.

Everything he had said had been the truth.

He had also obviously kept a few details to himself, notably the precise reason why he needed to stay in Montana for exactly six months. In other words, he had omitted the part about tying the knot.

He figured that this would definitely fall under personal life information, and therefore he wouldn’t be under any obligation to disclose it. 

He made his way to the staff room, and as he was emptying his locker, he received a phone call from Balthazar’s friend.

It seemed that everything was in order. He made a few suggestions to Castiel, nothing major, and if Castiel was in agreement with the prenup, which he was, that was that.

There was only one thing left to do that morning. He picked up the phone at the front desk and called Dean’s room.

It was still before lunch hour, and Castiel and Dean had just returned from the county clerk’s office with their marriage license.

After they had had a brief discussion early in the morning where Castiel had informed Dean of his decision, everything had happened quickly.

Standing on the third floor terrace balcony, which was momentarily empty thanks to Balthazar’s doing, Dean, though not wearing a tuxedo, was still wearing an extremely nice suit. Even more so than the one he had been wearing the day before. As if he had made sure to look good for the occasion.

Castiel had done the same, and yet, he somehow felt like he was incredibly underdressed compared to Dean.

His friend, however, didn’t appear to think so.

“You look nice,” Dean complimented him, in a genuine manner.

Castiel nodded, said thank you and returned the flattery, which he thought was much more truthful. But Dean sounded like he had meant it. Like he hadn’t simply said that for Catsiel’s benefit.

Jessica and Sam (who was indeed extremely tall, as Henry had told him) were there as well. Sam was to be the officiator, and Balthazar, who was harboring the most mischievous grin, was happy to witness the whole event as well. The ceremony didn’t last very long. All they had to do was to say the words and sign.

But Dean still checked with Castiel beforehand if he was sure of his decision. Castiel smiled and nodded firmly.

And he was.

But he was still nervous. Not about making a mistake, per se, but of something else.

The “I do’s” were exchanged and Sam pronounced them husbands. Balthazar was cheering with Jessica, who was filming the whole thing on her phone—to serve as additional evidence, of course.

Which meant that all that was left was the kiss.

It wasn’t a necessity, but they had agreed beforehand that they should.

For authenticity.

Facing each other, Dean leaned in slowly, but stopped. He stopped less than an inch away from Castiel’s face. Close enough for Castiel to feel his warm breath on his lips. And one look at Dean, and he understood why.

It wasn’t because Dean was having second thoughts.

Nor because he didn’t wish to kiss him.

Castiel understood it was because Dean wanted to make sure he was on board with everything. And him meeting him halfway for the kiss was to be his final yes.

And Dean had left it to Castiel to decide.

Castiel perceived it as an encouraging testament of Dean’s character.

That he wasn’t trying to force his hand.

And that Dean would try his best to make this incredibly awkward situation as comfortable as he could.

So he kissed him. His lips met Dean’s, long enough so it didn’t feel cheap, but made sure to keep the kiss of a chaste nature.

And that was it. They broke apart a few seconds later.

They smiled shyly.

Their kiss wasn’t meant to have a sexual overtone to it, of course, and yet Castiel was suddenly surprised he had felt a hint of disappointment by it. Not by the kiss itself, but rather that it had not occurred in the way he had once imagined it all those years ago. His inner twelve-year-old Castiel would have been upset at the idea that this was how his first kiss with Dean Winchester would have had occurred.

But that was done.

Sam and Jess cheered and clapped, and Dean hugged him tightly.

“Thank you. You saved me. Now, let me help you,” he whispered in his ear.

Castiel nodded, hoping he hadn’t made a terrible mistake.


	3. Hello and Goodbye

After the wedding, it had been decided that Sam and Jessica should catch the next flight home, on account that there was still plenty to be dealt with for Henry’s memorial service. Dean and Castiel would take a later flight for Montana in the evening, thus allowing Dean to help Castiel pack his stuff.

Mostly, however, it was to give them a bit of privacy to digest the situation they found themselves in.

Sam had appeared resistant at first, insisting that they could be of help, but Dean turned down his offer and assured him everything would be okay.

When they had arrived at his home, Castiel had been somewhat nervous about what Dean might say at the sight of his apartment. It was far from the worst living place he had ever had. Actually, it was one of the best, but because of its prime location, it meant he had had to sacrifice the space aspect.

The entire time they were at his apartment, however, if Dean had reservations or negative comments, he kept them to himself, and didn’t let it show one second. And Castiel had a feeling it was not simply due to good manners on his part, but rather because Dean wasn’t that type of person.

In fact, Dean seemed captivated to see Castiel’s home and Castiel really couldn’t understand why, especially considering that, where personal materials were concerned, Castiel was a minimalist.

Not necessarily by choice, but out of habit that he had acquired while growing up.

And yet, Dean took the time to browse the place. To look at his pictures and drawings on his fridge. To examine the pile of second hand books by the couch, waiting to be read.

Packing didn’t take Castiel very long. Because of his job, nearly every clothing item he owned were suits. He was so used to them that wearing anything else felt odd. He shot a look at Dean, questioning him on the matter.

“Bring whatever you are comfortable with and we’ll get you new stuff if need be, that’s all.”

Besides the clothes and the typical toiletry items, Castiel didn’t need much else. He added his computer and the book he was reading at the time, knowing that the rest of the pile would still be there when he would come back. He would simply have to find new ones once in Montana, instead of dragging the entire pile with him.

And, for a reason he couldn’t quite explain, he felt compelled to bring Henry’s letter with him as well, and slid it into his book when Dean was busy looking out the window.

“All done already?” he asked, when Castiel rolled his suitcase close to the door.

“I think so. I travel light.”

“It’s going to be for a while.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Dean took a seat at the counter.“ So, you’re still sure about this?” asked Dean.

“I thought the point was for you to convince me to go through with this, Dean,” said Castiel, amused. “Not the other way around.”

Dean let out a short laugh, tapping his fingers on the counter. “Yeah, well, I—I guess my point is to make sure you’re okay with it too. This whole thing is kind of unfair to you.”

“Pretty sure it’s a bit unfair to the both of us. And it’s clear that you’ve gone out of your way to compensate for my side. I’m fine with it. I wouldn’t have agreed to it otherwise.”

Dean opened his mouth slightly as if he was about to say something, but he shut it quickly and swallowed, still tapping on the counter.

Castiel’s phone buzzed on the counter. Hannah was calling and he let out a sigh.

“You’re not picking up?”

“I probably should,” he said grimly. “I certainly will have to at some point to explain things.” He lifted his eyes to meet Dean’s. “It’s Hannah,” he explained.

Dean nodded. “Your girlfriend. The one you told me about.”

Castiel pursed his lips. “I think _girlfriend _is a tad over selling it, but yes. She’s the one I told you about this morning—and last night. It’s—it’s complicated.”

One look at Dean and Castiel knew he’d have to try a little better than that. “I have no idea how to define whatever it is we have. Don’t worry, it’s not like I was about to pop the question or that she was expecting it either. It constantly shifts between—anyway,” he stopped himself from getting into his history with Hannah, feeling it would spoil everything. “Just—it’s not anything super solid, but—”

“But it’s not nothing,” added Dean understandingly.

Still holding his phone, Castiel felt awkward about the turn the conversation had taken. “What about you?” he asked. “Any, um, girlfriend or fiancé? Or am I way over stepping here? You never said.”

“That’s because there’s nothing to tell, really.”

“No one?” said Castiel, teasingly incredulous.

But with a smile at the corner of his mouth, Dean said, “No.”

“No crushes at the ranch? Or in town? Online?”

Dean shook his head. “Nothing like that, no.”

Castiel had to repress a frown, having extreme difficulty believing this considering Dean’s physical attributes, as well as his character in general. He wanted to question him about it, but decided it might be too personal for now. In any case, it wasn’t like any of this would change their situation.

“I suppose that will help make this less, um—”

“Awkward?”

“About certain things, yes.”

Dean nodded, biting his lip. “What is the one thing that bothers you the most right now?”

Castiel twisted his phone in his hands. “I suppose, if I have to pick one, I’d have to say the rules. Though, I wouldn’t exactly say it bothers me, more like—I’m just confused about them.”

“I don’t know the answer behind all of them, but I have a few ideas about some of them. Like the holiday one.” Castiel tilted his head, listening. “That’s probably on me,” said Dean. “I’m, um—partially, I think it’s because I’m a workaholic. I don’t really take holidays.” He swallowed and crossed his hands over his chest. “I’m pretty sure Granddad was trying to do something about that.”

Castiel nodded. “I was talking about one rule in particular.” He lifted his eyes, shyly looking at Dean.

Dean let out a short laugh again. “You mean ‘the sharing a bed’ one?”

Castiel bit his lip. “Look, it’s not a big deal. I mean, if we, um, both agree to draw a line.”

“Of course. I told you, I’m not—I wasn’t insinuating that—” Dean began to say, but the rest of the sentence died in his throat. “It’s just for sleeping. And, like I said, I’m still trying to find a loophole on that one.” He cleared his throat. “But no. We, um, both agreed this morning that this whole thing is just business.” And then, he felt the urge to add, “Okay, a little warmer than just that, I hope for your sake, because I really want you to feel comfortable at the ranch. You will be living there. And—you know.”

They both nodded awkwardly.

They remained quiet for a moment, until Dean asked, “Are you eager to see it? The ranch?”

This was a trick question, for the answer was both yes and no. Castiel had always loved the ranch, and always had a strong desire to go back and visit it since he had last been. Unfortunately, given how Castiel’s last visit had ended, the ranch tapped into good memories, as much as bad ones.

But none of this had anything to with Dean, or the Winchesters, or the ranch even. And in that moment, Castiel decided that perhaps his six months stay at the ranch would be able to rectify this once and for all.

“I am eager to go back,” he finally said. “I imagine it must have changed a lot since the last time I was there.”

Dean opened his mouth, but shut it quickly. He repositioned himself on his seat, and then said, “You already know a lot because of the information I gave you last night, but seeing it will be different. And I didn’t mention everything. I want to tell you, but part of me wants to keep it a surprise for you. You’re one of the rare ones who got to see it way back when and I’m kinda really looking forward to know what you think of the changes. Is that weird?”

“No. That’s—I feel privileged you think so much of my input.”

“Or course, Cas. We’re friends. That never changed.”

Castiel nodded, trying not to look as embarrassed as he felt. “Where do you suggest I should work on the ranch?”

“Anywhere you like,” said Dean, as if it was the most obvious thing.

“I don’t want to take anybody’s post, Dean.”

“You won’t. You’ll see.”

“What about the people working on the ranch then? Can you tell me about them? I’ll have to catch up with everybody’s names quickly I suppose.”

For nearly half an hour, Dean became very animated in his discussion, describing his employees, which sounded much more like he was describing friends and family. The only reason why he stopped was because they were interrupted by Castiel’s buzzing phone again.

Castiel let out a sigh when he looked at it.

“Is it Hannah, again?”

Castiel nodded grimly. “I think I should call her now and get it over with.”

“You think it’s going to be really awful?” asked Dean, desperate to sound apologetic.

“She was already upset yesterday, which she had a right to be because I, um, forgot about her.”

Dean made a sorry face. “Why do I feel like that’s my fault?”

“The fault is mine, Dean. I’m the one who forgot our appointment. Anyway, I had a lot to deal with today, and given our not-so-great conversation from last night, I’ve stupidly been dodging her calls all day. And she doesn’t even know the news yet.”

Dean held his breath. “A lot—everything was my doing,” he said to Castiel. “Do you think it would help if I talked to her?” suggested Dean.

Castiel shook his head vehemently. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Honestly, I’m not sure how she will react, because you never know with Hannah. But I don’t think it will be that great at first. She usually does come around eventually, though.”

Castiel couldn’t help but notice Dean’s flagrant guilty face. “If she asks to speak with you, I’ll let you know, but I doubt she will. And you shouldn’t have to. This isn’t your fault Dean.”

Dean suggested for Castiel to have his conversation in his bedroom for a little more privacy, while he stayed in the kitchen admiring the mural of pictures over Castiel’s kitchen sink.

They ended up leaving right before dinner. Castiel glanced one last time at his apartment, locked the door behind him, and the next thing he knew, he was on his way to his new life for the next six months with Dean—his husband.

The moment they stepped into the airport, it became rapidly apparent to Castiel that Dean was a nervous flyer. So much so that once aboard the plane, Dean had to take pills to calm his nerves.

Dean, evidently feeling embarrassed, shared that he didn’t like having to resort to medication and urgently specified that they were simply in case of emergency.

Castiel reassured him that it was a very common thing to do and that there was nothing to feel embarrassed about, which seemed to comfort Dean when a shy smile appeared on his face.

The medication, however, made Dean feel incredibly sleepy, remarkably so that not even ten minutes after the plane had lifted off, he was already letting out soft snores.

Glad that Dean was indisputably feeling better, Castiel spent the rest of the flight reflecting on the last twenty-four hours, while Dean snoozed peacefully next to him.

Although it had been done quickly, looking at the clouds out of the window, Castiel felt overall good about his decision.

Sure, he had hit the usual holy-crap-what-have-I-done stage about twelve times since he had said “I do,” which would most likely continue for a while, but it was to be expected. It would have been probably worrisome if he hadn’t at all.

No, his decision wasn’t what troubled him.

_Other people’s reaction _to his decision was the cause of his worries.

People from the ranch he hadn’t even met yet.

People from his work he had left behind.

And then there was Hannah and Balthazar.

His afternoon conversation with Hannah over the phone had not been pleasant. She had not taken the news kindly and he couldn’t blame her. He understood that him promptly leaving for half a year, _marrying _someone else, and all this without sharing that information with her (never mind asking her opinion on the matter), was rather uncharacteristically discourteous of him. He assured her that it was temporary and a favour for a friend, nothing more.

And even though he understood her frustrations, he had to admit that he was equally disappointed in her behavior as she was in his.

After all, she had been the one insisting that they were not officially dating.

He tried to think of ways he could make it up to her, but her scornfulness rendered him even more confused at the situation.

Nonetheless, Castiel was upset how he had left things with her.

Balthazar, unsurprisingly, had a different opinion on the matter. Castiel had texted him when him and Dean had been waiting to board the plane to let him know that he was truly going through with the plan, and wanted a confirmation that Balthazar would water his plants and check up on his mail during his absence like he had agreed on earlier that day.

In his text, he had also taken the liberty to relate to him his conversation with Hannah. He had done so, however, in much greater details than he had with Dean.

Balthazar: If she can’t understand why you’re doing this, that’s her problem. She should have snatched you when you were there waiting for her if that’s what she wanted. You snooze, you lose.

I’m team Winchester. I respect the bold move.

Fuck her.

Or should I say, fuck him!<strike></strike>

Although Castiel could have done without the sexual insinuation of his arrangement with Dean, a fact that he had clearly stated on multiple occasions to Balthazar, his friend had still managed to eloquently call Hannah on her shit.

But Castiel had a disdain for conflicts. All he had left was to hope that Hannah would eventually come around and recognize that there was nothing to worry about.

And then, just as he was perking up at the thought, he remembered that he had grossly overlooked a few other people in his decision: his family members. Partially ashamed that he had only thought of them until that very moment, Castiel wasn’t sure how this situation would affect them. Even though they were barely speaking, news such as this one was bound to eventually reach them, and given the person in question, there was no way of knowing what their reaction would be.

He decided to ignore his momentary panic on the account that considering their weak communication over the last decade, in particularly within the last years, he would most likely not hear anything from them until the whole thing would be over.

When the plane landed a few hours later, Castiel woke Dean up as gently as he could. Sam and Jessica were waiting for them at the airport, ready to drive them to the ranch.

Castiel fought the urge to constantly fidget in his seat, as he felt his anxiety rise by every passing minute. One glance at Dean, who kept rubbing his neck, and Castiel gathered that he was not the only one fretting their arrival at the ranch.

Even if Dean was most likely eager to be back home, finding themselves at the ranch had this official statement attached to it. Like the moment they would be there, there would be no turning back. And while not knowing anyone at the ranch had its own disadvantages, Castiel understood that the fact that Dean knew _everyone _at the ranch was most definitely equally nerve-racking for him. After all, Castiel had just reflected on how his decision could affect the people in his life and how their reaction to his decision affected him.

After a long car ride outside the town, during which Sam tried his best to distract Dean with updates concerning the service, they finally turned onto a narrower road. They met a small sign announcing the ranch up ahead that Castiel remembered.

That was when things started to resurface for him. Even though they were still surrounded by only trees, his environment appeared familiar to him. Soon enough, they turned onto another small road with the big sign “Winchester Ranch” at the entrance.

The dirt road wasn’t a dirt road anymore, but a paved one, with large trees and short fences all around. And as they turned onto it and gotten closer to some of the buildings, it took Castiel a moment to situate himself on the property. He remembered the path leading to the ranch being much longer than this.

When the vehicle stopped near the main building, because of news stables and other alterations, he couldn’t even spot the Winchester’s house anymore.

They both thanked Sam and Jessica for the ride.

“It was our pleasure. We’re really happy that you’re here, Castiel,” said Jessica.

“You sure you guys need help bringing your stuff to the house?” asked Sam. “We can still drive you to the house instead of just dropping you off here,”

“We’ll managed,” said Dean. “The walk will be good. But we should probably do that now and then we’ll come back or—”

Sam shook his head. “Go home, Dean. You’ve had a long day. You both have. The ranch is still standing. Everybody’s got it covered.”

Dean pursed his lips. “What about tomorrow? There has to be something that I need to double check before the service.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Like I told you on the way here, everything is ready. Your job is to show up. That’s it.”

Dean was still staring at him. Sam let out of sigh as Jessica was grinning next to him. “I’ll send you the info about everything so you can double check. But maybe try to chill for once?”

“Damn it, Sam. You’re too soft on him,” said a familiar voice behind Castiel and Dean. Bobby Signer, an older man who Castiel remembered working at the ranch as a mechanic, appeared next to Dean, with his arms crossed over his chest. “I would have just said ‘Goodnight,’ and cut it short.”

“I tried,” said Sam, grinning. “But maybe you’ll be able to.” He wished everyone good night, wrapped his arm around Jessica’s shoulders and walked to the front door of the main building.

Bobby stepped in closer, examining Castiel. “You remember me?”

“Yes, of course, sir. You’re Robert Signer. You used to work with John, mostly on the vehicles.” They shook hands and Bobby was smiling, studying his face, very much so like Henry had done when they had met at the hotel.

“It’s nice to see you again, Castiel.” He turned to Dean and said, “I know you told us to leave you be, but well,” he said, smiling widely and gesturing at Castiel, “you can’t stop me from witnessing this from my own damn eyes.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Thanks. That’s not making it awkward at all, Bobby.”

“That was my intention, idjit.” He tapped him on his shoulder and headed towards the same direction Sam and Jessica had gone not a moment ago. “You’re lucky it’s just me. I’d listen to Sam if I were you and head home, unless you want a bunch of nosy people cornering you within the next five minutes.”

Dean let out a sigh. “Fine. Thanks.” He picked up his and Castiel’s bag, and they both walked ahead, away from the building.

“I thought you said Sam and Jessica lived in town?” asked Castiel, turning towards Dean.

“They do. They’re just spending the night because of the service,” he explained.

Walking side by side, Castiel observed his surroundings with more attention. At first glance, the main building of the ranch, the cabins, and stables all looked incredibly different than what Castiel remembered. It was similar, the colors and the overall look and vibe of the place were the same, but not identical. Or it felt that way, at least.

“Trying to figure out what changed?” asked Dean.

Castiel squinted back at the main building on their right, which still looked like an elegant barn. “I am,” he admitted. “Something is different. That or it’s just been too long and I’m remembering it differently.”

“You’re not,” said Dean. “About ten years ago, a part of the roof caved in during the winter. Harsh winter. We had to improve it, so Granddad decided to take the opportunity to do other alterations. Long story short, we added an entire new wing,” he said, pointing to the left of the building, “and we renovated the interior as well. We now have two major rooms, which large groups can use for celebrations and whatnot. We also added rooms for guests within the main building as well. Like an inn. That has really helped because of the location of certain cabins. It’s fine in the summer and fall, but the winter can be problematic with them. The cabins are fine, but we had to reach them and well—anyways, long story, we made some changes and that was one of those.”

They walked past the stables, and Castiel paused and smiled. “This hasn’t changed.”

“No, it hasn’t. Maybe a little more secure than before. There are two more up ahead now, as you can see. Those are for boarders. And another one behind the main building next to new enclosures.”

“Do you still host events like you used to?”

“Yeah. But that’s mostly during the summer. It helps with the tourists. We still have guests during the winter, of course, but for the big events, outdoor activities are much more pleasant in the summer season than in the dead of winter.”

“Right.”

“We still have the same hiking trails we used to have,” he said, pointing at the back, past the stables, “and we even created a bunch more way on the other side. Those are a little more ‘artificial,’ because we planted a few resting spots along side them, but they are really popular and beautiful. And that’s the secondary building. We added it a few years after the big renovations. We started expanding on what people could do here, so we needed a place where we could stock all of that. We tried many things. Some worked better than others, and some didn’t. But the main attractions are, of course, the horses and the private cabins and cottages.”

As they were walking down the road, Castiel was about to turn to his right, but stopped when he realized Dean was pursuing his path forward.

He looked at him, confused, and Dean said, “It’s that way.”

“I thought—I seemed to remember your house was the road past the stables for some reasons.”

“It was. That’s where my parents’ house was. Not far from Granddad’s old house. The houses are still there. We still use them, but none of us have been living there for a long time now. A few years before the roof had caved in, we had a good financial year, and well—um, some of the investors had convinced Granddad that he should either improve his residence with renovations or rebuild it entirely. It was supposed to add _class _and _distinction _to the place,” Dean snorted. “Granddad, for very obvious reasons, couldn’t bring himself to tear down the place, so he renovated his and my parent’s house. Only necessary stuff for good measure—insulation and plumbing kind of things—and decided to build himself an entire new residence a little farther away.”

They were past where the old hiking trails began. Past the stables and even the most popular cabins. Castiel didn’t remember any establishment that far off. The rest was just trees and greenery. But the path continued up ahead, enveloped by hedges. The lane eventually swirled and they finally reached a point where they could see a large property that had been hiding behind a massive line of olive and cherry trees.

Castiel gasped. This house was impressive. It wasn’t overdone and it didn’t look out of place. It had a rustic, comfortable vibe, with large stone and warm wood. But this was in no way a _cabin_. Or a bungalow.

This was borderline a mansion. He turned to Dean with wide eyes.

“Now, my guess,” said Dean, gently nudging Castiel forward, “is that Granddad agreed to build this massive house, partially for show so the investors would back off. This was to be his house for the time being, where he planned on staying in it for a few years to play the game, you know. But I don’t think he built it for himself. I think he meant to build this for my parents. For them to retire there. But, um, then—”

“Your parents passed away,” said Castiel in a low voice.

“Yeah. So Granddad was now stuck with a massive house he didn’t really want. Sam moved in, of course. He was still in high school when it happened. I stayed with them during my school breaks.”

“So this was always your house, even before he left it to you.”

“No,” said Dean, shaking his head. “This was really Granddad’s. I came back and lived there with them when I was done with school until it was Sam’s turn to move for college. Not long after that, I eventually used one of the old cabins as an apartment. Granddad offered me my parent’s house, but I just—it felt weird. And now,” he sighed, gesturing at the house in front of them.

“Now, you have this house. Sam doesn’t want it?”

Dean laughed. “I’m sure he wouldn’t be opposed to it. But given how far away it is from his and Jess’ jobs, don’t think it’s the best option, no.”

Dean and Castiel made their way to the house, passing by a small garden.

Waiting for Dean to open the door, Castiel stood beside him on a porch that surrounded the entire house, and was garnished with a pair of nice, comfy-looking rocking chairs and even a swinging love seat.

Dean opened the door and let Castiel go in.

The home was beautiful. It was modern and yet decorated with a good mid-western splash. Just enough so Castiel thought it was stylish and added personality.

The kitchen, the living room, and dinning room were all in this massive open area. The living room’s impressive large windows gave view to the woods. A large fireplace with heavy-looking grey and brown stones was occupying the corner of the living room. The seemingly state of the art kitchen contained two ovens, a substantial dark sink, and a large kitchen island with marble countertops of a bronze and white color. There was a long and rustic table in the dinning room, which was situated right next to the living room.

Dean pointed to a small stairway on their right, and Castiel noticed there was another level. “There is an additional resting room with couches upstairs. Like a mini loft. There’s another set of windows, like these, and it’s actually pretty cool to see the view from there. But it’s mostly just a family room. The rest, well, regular stuff. Kitchen. Dinning room. Living room. Nothing too extravagant. There’s a mud room, which also leads to the garage that way,” he said, pointing to the left of the kitchen.

Castiel followed Dean past the living room and down the hallway. “This is really beautiful, Dean. Stunning, really.”

“Thank you. I mean, I’d take the credit, but I had nothing to do with it. Granddad met with architects and home designers and stuff. Like I said, pretty sure he wanted to do this for my parents. I don’t think Granddad would have bothered with all this if it just would have been for him. He was the ‘only need basics’ kind of guy. But like you said, this is still very beautiful. I know he still loved it.”

Walking down the hallway, Dean showed him the powder bathroom and stopped once they reached what looked like a mini gym. Dean cleared his throat. “Okay, so, um, this used to be my room. It got turned into a gym a few years ago when it was suggested as a good precaution for Granddad’s health. Sam and I set it up for him with Jess’ help. We have an actual gym in the main building, but we thought he would be more inclined to do it in the comfort of his home instead of with the rest of the guests.”

“Was he ill?”

“No. He was okay. Beside the usual issues that come with age, I mean. He had to make some changes in his diet. Watch his blood pressure. You know, nothing alarming. But we thought that would help and it did. Anyways, so we have a gym here and another at the main building that everyone can use. You can use both, no problem.”

Dean bit his lips, rubbed his neck and he continued down the hall. Castiel sensed that the gym was probably not the problem.

When they had reached another set of rooms, one on each side of the hall, facing each other, Dean paused. “This is the official guest room,” he said, nodding at the room on the right. “It used to be Sam’s room. Granddad’s bedroom is at the end of the hall,” he said, pointing ahead at a large door, “but—I—I can’t use it. It just feels—I can go in the room and everything, that’s fine. But sleeping there? In my grandfather’s room—bed—it just feels weird.”

“That’s understandable.”

“I—I wasn’t sure what to do about the sleeping arrangement. Considering my old room is a gym, I can’t use it. Even if I remove all the gym equipment—anyway. So for now, I improvised a bedroom here,” he said, nodding to the room facing the guest room.

Castiel stepped into the doorway to peek and he let out a small gasp. He entered the room to have a better look.

“Yeah, so, obviously, this wasn’t a bedroom,” said Dean, clearing his throat as he followed Castiel into the room. “Granddad used it as an office and library. But it was intended to be the main bedroom originally,” he said, nodding his head to the right, where tinted-glass sliding doors stood. “That’s a full bathroom. But, um, when Granddad moved in, he really liked the view from the room at the end, so he decided to make it his bedroom instead. But this room was supposed to be the master bedroom. I had to move a few things around,” he said, gesturing at the room, “but it wasn’t very strenuous. I pushed one of the desks to the wall, and removed what wasn’t necessary. I stored it in his bedroom for now. I—I still need to fix his room, but I didn’t—I wasn’t really feeling up to it right away. I figured I’d better fix this room first. I brought in a dresser for clothes and I bought a bed real quick. Clearly, there’s, like, the walls of books to consider,” he said, taking a good look at the shelves covering nearly every wall of the room. “Though, I weirdly like them right now. But eventually, I’ll probably turn Granddad’s bedroom into a study and move everything there once that’s taken care of.”

Castiel turned to Dean, who was looking around, seemingly judging the place. The moment he realized Castiel was staring at him, Dean rubbed his neck and cleared his throat.

“Yes. Um, okay. So, for the weird sleeping arrangement part. Um, I was—I was thinking about it on our way from the airport, and I know it’s in the clause or whatever, but even if it’s just, you know, _sleeping_, it feels weird. Like it’s not, but it is.”

Castiel stood still.

“Cas, I told you, the last thing I want to do is make you feel uncomfortable. So I thought that if you preferred, at the beginning, maybe the guest room would be better for you. I don’t mind either way. But yeah.”

“You mean I’d be sleeping in the guest room and you’d be sleeping here,” said Castiel.

Dean nodded.

“But I thought—aren’t we supposed to follow the rules?”

“We are. We will. But that one rule is kind of weird. And honestly, unless someone’s spying on us, how can they know? The meals and holidays and stuff are obvious, and that’s not anything bad or demanding. I’m sort of almost looking forward to it. But sharing the bed is—I thought of a loophole. Um, it says _sharing _a bed. So we could literally do that. As in we could switch rooms every week or something. Everything else on the list I’m totally following to the letter, but I—I don’t know, what do you think?”

Castiel took a moment to think about it. “I’m okay with that Dean. I would have followed through with the rule. It is just sleeping after all as we agreed. But we can start like this for now, yes.” It was evident that the subject was awkward for the both of them, while they themselves weren’t exactly sure as to why. But Castiel appreciated that Dean was trying his best to make him feel welcome, and ensure that he would have his own space and say in everything as well. Which was more than what Castiel could say about most of his past relationships, romantic or otherwise.

“Okay. Awesome.” Dean nodded. “I’ll let you set up in your room for a moment then, and then we can grab something to eat.”

Sam had informed them on the way to the ranch that him and Jess had filled the fridge with ready-to-eat meals for them, wanting to free them of the bother of cooking on their first night. Dean was incredibly gracious to his sister-in-law when he spotted her signature dish in the fridge: lasagna.

The rest of the evening was short, but pleasant, even if they were admittedly a bit awkward around each other. But it wasn’t anything worrisome, Castiel thought.

Feeling exhausted despite the early hour of the night, Castiel judged, by Dean’s lack of focus, that a good night’s sleep was what they both needed.

It had been a long (and weird) last twenty-four hours, and the next day would most likely be equally demanding, if not even more so, given it was Henry Winchester’s memorial service.

They stood in their respective doorways, wished each other good night, and not long afterwards, both fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning, it took Castiel a moment to remember where he was once he had opened his eyes. And then it all came back rushing in. As he lay on his bed, looking at the ceiling, he felt a hint of apprehension slowly creeping up in his chest. He wouldn’t have labeled it as regret, but he was momentarily worried what the day—and the next six months—had in store for him. Finally telling himself that what was done was done, he got up and prepared himself.

Dean was understandably quiet during breakfast. Castiel did his best to help him by running through the to-do list with him, which seemed to be a welcomed distraction. He felt bad that Dean was left to deal with all this at the side of someone he barely knew anymore. Of course, they would both soon be joined by Sam and Jessica, as well as friends from the ranch, but Castiel still felt somewhat at a loss on how he could best help Dean.

At first, an official—read, formal—service was to happen in town, before the (partial) burial of the urn. Part of Henry’s ashes was to be buried in the urn next to Millie, Henry’s late wife, alongside to the plot where John and Mary were also buried, in the cemetery just outside of town. The rest of his ashes were to be scattered by the lake on the outskirts of the land—a something that Sam and Dean had promised to do together.

But plans had changed.

Sam and Dean had opted that the memorial service should be held at the ranch, not in town, unlike what some of the members of the Board of Directors had suggested, and that everything involving Henry’s ashes would be dealt by Sam and Dean (with the exception of a few others, Castiel included) privately and in their own time.

The memorial occurred in one of the major rooms of the ranch’s main building that Dean had mentioned the day before. Much like the house, the place was stunning and had the same décor. A warm and rustic vibe with the wood, but strong and nearly classy with the large stones of the massive fireplace. The wall of windows seemed even more spectacular because of the long, thick and dark green curtains adorning them.

As the people started to arrive, Castiel was slowly becoming restless standing next to the Winchesters. He almost felt like he was intruding, not because Dean and Sam gave him this impression, far from it actually, but rather because standing next to them gave people the idea to extend their condolences to him as well.

A detail that Sam, Dean and Jessica didn’t seem bothered by in the least.

But it bothered him. And especially when he noticed that a few people were discreetly giving him a side eye once or twice.

Castiel never liked the spotlight, for good reasons, and he feared that, sooner or later, some people would eventually ask questions of his identity, and that rarely led to cheerful topics.

Eventually, Sam walked forward and demanded everybody’s attention for him to start his eulogy. Everyone else was standing around and Castiel remained next to Dean.

It had been decided between Sam and Dean that Sam should be the one speaking, since Dean claimed that Sam was far better at these sorts of things. While that might have been true, Sam insisted that Dean shouldn’t worry too much about appearances and that he had the right just as anyone to say what he wanted.

Castiel had agreed with Sam, but Dean insisted, so Sam obliged.

This was the point where emotions hit Castiel hard. Hearing about Henry and his family made Castiel feel incredibly thankful that he was there on that day, and regretful that he hadn’t been until then. Not having enjoyed their company for so many years had been one thing, but not having been able to have been there for them when Sam and Dean had lost their parents was an entire other ordeal of remorse. Castiel had only learned about the tragedy long after it had actually happened, so, even though he felt it brought very small comfort, he was glad that he could at least be present for them this time around.

When Sam, with a faint waver in his voice, recounted that particular event and what it had meant for him and Dean that Henry had taken care of them after their parents had passed away, Castiel felt a lump growing in his throat. Dean staggered a bit next to him.

Castiel subtly glimpsed at Dean.

Dean swallowed hard, and his eyes were red, though no tears were visible.

Without thinking, quite naturally, and his eyes back on Sam, Castiel simply reached out for Dean’s hand, and squeezed gently and warmly.

Dean replied with the same pressure and leaned slightly against him, not overly on Castiel’s shoulder, but enough for support, and took a deep breath. He interlocked their fingers.

Just for that, Castiel was grateful to have been present. He had wanted to do something to show Dean that no matter what the situation, he was happy that he could be there and that he wasn’t on his own.

When Sam finished his eulogy, which was done in a broken voice, he returned to his place, in between Dean and Jessica, who gave him a warm hug.

Sam then turned towards Dean and hugged him tightly, and to Castiel’s surprise, Sam reached out to Castiel’s arm and also tugged him into the hug.

A few other people shared a few words, much like Sam had done, and soon the crowd started to break ranks. Food and beverages were then brought in and mini-groups started to form where people were discussing among themselves.

And that was when Castiel noticed that near the fireplace a small group of people was looking in his direction. Their harsh looks convinced him that Sam and Dean were most likely not their focus point. A woman with bright red hair and a man with an overly confident smile were conversing while watching him intensively, and even though they were out of earshot, he was positive one of them had distinctively pronounced “Novak” with a firm look of disdain.

Dean was busy speaking with an elderly gentleman who claimed to have known Henry since high school, so Castiel left Dean’s side in order to distance himself from the Winchesters for a moment. The last thing he wanted was to turn the attention towards him given the event in question.

As he crossed the room, the glares and whispers only increased. He sat down at a small empty table near the windows on the other side of the room, hoping it would subdue the intrigue caused by his presence.

It didn’t.

Fortunately, however, a nice and jolly blond woman showed up next to him, bringing a plate of sweets she had managed to grab from the display of food.

“Hi there! I just arrived—duty called, don’t get me started—and I’m starving. Can I sit here with you if I share?”

“Of course,” said Castiel. He stood up and pulled up a chair for her. “That’s so kind of you. You don’t need to do that.”

“Um, dude, you just flat out went all gentleman-like. You’re the one who’s super nice.” She sat down with a big smile on her face. “I figured you might like some company. These things are usually awkward and difficult as it is. I imagine it must be hard when you only know a couple of people and they are obviously busy with managing everything else,” she said, looking in Dean’s direction.

Castiel frowned. “How do you—you know who am I?”

“Oh, I’m being silly,” she said, laughing. She pushed the plate of sweets in between them. “I work at the ranch. That’s how I know who you are, Mr. Novak,” she said, smiling warmly. “I’m Donna.”

“Oh, Donna,” he said, suddenly intrigued. “I’ve heard of you, as well. You’re Dean’s best man—woman on the ground.”

“Oooh, I wouldn’t go that far. But yes, that’s me.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“Same, Mr. Novak.”

“Please, call me Castiel. Or Cas,” he said, suddenly feeling doubly exposed at hearing his last name. “But even if you knew of my arrival, how did you know who I was?”

She let out a short laugh. “Are you kidding? You caused quite the buzz around here and everyone is really eager to meet you. I was so mad I missed your arrival yesterday. But anyways, I still knew it was you the second I looked at you.”

“Really? There is a lot of people present today who I’m sure aren’t from the ranch. How did you know it was me? Do I stand out so much with the décor?”

“No, silly. It’s because you look exactly how Dean described you.”

Castiel opened his mouth and shut it, taking in what Donna had just said. “What do you mean? When was that?”

“Before. Over the years. Okay, like he wasn’t constantly talking about you, but everyone who works here at some point learned about you. Henry spoke highly of you, but everybody knew about Dean’s best childhood friend. It’s the one story he never shuts up about when families stay here during the summer and they befriend other children around. Lots of people say he tells it because it’s the story that sells, but nah, I don’t think that’s what this is. You can tell, you meant a lot to Dean. And now you’re here! And married. I mean, I know it’s not—you know, but I don’t know, I find this so cool and—and now I’m saying all this and you’re looking at me like I just told you something incredibly embarrassing,” she stopped, biting her bottom lip, lifting her hand slightly to her mouth. “Please, tell me I didn’t say something I shouldn’t have, because it happens. A lot.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” said Castiel, unaccustomed to compliments. “I just—I wasn’t expecting that. It’s just odd to me that people know me—of me so much when I know nothing about them.”

“Right. Should have started smaller.” She quickly offered the plate to him. “Have you tried the scones? Because they are the best thing you’ll ever eat.”

Eventually, a few of Donna’s coworkers, Ash, Garth, Pamela and Bobby, joined their table. Castiel was pleased to be able to interact with workers of the ranch. It offered him a good sense of the work place. Castiel felt encouraged hearing Henry’s employees state how much they would miss him and what the place meant to them. He visually kept track of where Dean was in the room, verifying he wasn’t in dire need of assistance, but Dean was busy speaking with numerous people and he didn’t seem in distress. In fact, he seemed relatively relaxed and in deep discussion with most people.

Unless he suddenly saw Dean looking like he needed rescuing, he figured he could give him his space for now and enjoy the stories the group at the table were sharing.

They, in return, wanted to hear Castiel’s memories of the place.

“Unlike us, you actually know what this place used to be back in the day. There are very few of us who know besides Bobby. And Sam and Dean, of course.”

Castiel was happy to oblige their request. It was an odd conversation. Or situation. Much like the day before, he was having one of those out of body experiences. It was difficult to believe that he was telling stories of his childhood about the ranch and the Winchesters, as he often preferred not to think too much about those things. But the fact that he was doing it at that very ranch, now married to Dean, was one of those moments where reality hit him hard once again. He wasn’t having a panic attack, but a certain amount of discomfort was definitely rising. But the friendliness of the few people around him reassured him somewhat, so he tried his best.

He told them of the mandatory campfires at the end of each day with Henry. He remembered that John always had the best scary stories to tell. He remembered the summer festivals. Him and Dean constantly trying to persuade their parents to let them camp far off on the property, but were always forbidden in case of bears or other wild life. There weren’t many, but they didn’t want to take chances. They had been, however, free to wander off by horse once they were old enough, but not too far, and always together.

And he also remembered that they had inevitably explored a little farther than they had should once or twice.

He remembered him and Dean going fishing with John, Mary and Sam down at the lake. He remembered John bringing the boys to a car exposition downtown. And Mary with Henry had once brought them to the museum in the next town over.

Visitors mostly stayed a week or two, particularly during the month of July, but of what he remembered, his family had been one of the rare guests to stay for entire summer.

“This place was very thrilling to me as a child. But oddly, I look at the place now and it feels even bigger. It’s obvious that it expanded. I knew it had, but I honestly had no idea it had to that degree. It’s wonderful.”

“And to think that Henry almost lost it all because of dear old papa Novak,” said a voice behind him. “How ironic.”

Castiel suddenly froze as a man took a seat next to him. Castiel studied him for a moment. He appeared familiar, but Castiel couldn’t put a name to the face.

“You remember me?” the man asked, snarling.

“I’m not—no, I’m sorry.”

“But you recognize me, right?”

Castiel nodded.

“The name is Ishim. Ishim Fibber.”

Castiel held his breath. “You’re—you were—”

“I used to work at the Carver Edlund Company, yes.”

Castiel stared at him. Ishim took a sip of his drink. “I was there when it all fell apart. It was quite something to witness, quite the storm to weather. Many had to deal with bankruptcy. Tarnished reputation. Unemployment for so many people, it is almost embarrassing to say it out loud. And that’s for starters. I have to say, Mr. Novak, the very fact that I was associated with that company, it nearly destroyed every opportunity I ever had in business afterwards. Or a chance for employment. And that was me. I was merely a low-level employee. I haven’t seen firsthand what it did to your father, but given the rumors, I can imagine. A fate, I was told, he shared with his children,” he said, looking down at Castiel.

“Do we need to remind you of the event we are currently attending, Ishim,” said Bobby.

“Or that Castiel is our guest here,” said Donna with a mild attitude. “A very welcomed one.”

“No disrespect intended, of course. Simply an observation. The late Mr. Winchester tried to help Mr. Novak’s company. That was part of the reason why I’m here, today, because unlike the rest of the world, Henry was ready to overlook that association. Because he cared about Charles Novak. But that got him, and everyone else who knew him, into really deep waters. The only reason why he managed to rise above it was because he was _the _Henry Winchester.” He stood up from his seat, and as he buttoned back his jacket, he looked down at Castiel. “You might not be your father, but you’re still his son. The name ‘Novak’ still resonates a bad connotation, to put it mildly, and I don’t think I need to tell you that, no matter who’s wearing it. And while Dean might be many things, he _isn’t _Henry. Let’s hope you both know what you’re doing.”

He delicately dropped his glass on the table and left.

“Who’s Charles Novak?” asked someone, but Castiel slowly stood up, excused himself and rushed to the washroom.

After crossing the room as discreetly as possible, he locked himself in the washroom. He ran cold water on his face briefly and took a deep breath as he looked into the mirror.

It had been a while since an encounter such as this had occurred. It used to happen a lot more during his teenage years and in his early twenties. It had been relatively frequent when he had started working at the hotel too. And while it had never stopped occurring—and it certainly hadn’t helped when the whole issue with Lucifer had reached its peak a few years ago—Castiel had mostly dealt with stern looks, poor attitude and general rudeness of late. Even when his father was mentioned.

But the very fact that he had reacted so strongly about Ishim’s comments was an indication that, once in a while, not matter how used to it he was, being subjected to people’s hostility still rattled him.

And he knew this hadn’t even been a bad one. Ishim had been incredibly civilized compared to what he had to endure in the past.

Wiping his face, Castiel wondered if coming here had been a good idea, after all. He had done it to help Dean, but now he couldn’t help but think that his very presence would be more harmful than good.

After regaining his composure, Castiel was unfortunately cornered once more when he walked down the hallway. This time, however, he was accosted by the red-haired woman.

“Mr. Novak, hello. So nice to finally meet you,” said the woman, extending her arm. Reluctantly, Castiel shook her hand, firmly enough, but not overly.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m—I’m afraid I don’t know who you are.”

“Of course, how foolish of me. I’m Ab—well, call me Abby Knight.”

“Hello, nice to meet you.”

“Yes, likewise. I have to say,” she said, gently guiding him towards the main room again, “your presence in this particular moment, when everything is on the verge of development, is very…interesting, Mr. Novak. Everybody thinks so.” She turned her head, slightly observing the room. Castiel did the same and noticed that many people were observing them. Ishim was speaking to a group of men who were definitely glaring back at them. Another group to the left had five tall businessmen and two businesswomen who were distinctively giving them the stink eye. Based on their clothes—and attitude—Castiel was convinced that they were members of the Board of Directors. Or investors. Or both.

“It’s very clear that everyone seems to have an opinion on the matter, yes,” he said to her. “Not that anyone has asked, but, just so we’re clear, I’m here for Dean.”

“Yes, old childhood friends magically reunited, as we heard,” said a man who had now joined them. Castiel recognized him as the man who had been standing next to Abby earlier. “Hello. The name is Dick Roman,” he said, shaking his hand vigorously. Castiel leaned his head backwards at the mention of the name.

“Mr. Roman of—”

“Of Roman Industries, yes.”

Castiel let out a nervous laugh. “I’m sorry, aren’t you—I mean, weren’t you Mr. Winchester’s competitor?”

“I was. I am. And it is why I am here today. I had nothing but admiration for the man. He stuck to his guns, even if nearly everyone told him otherwise.”

“And how is it that you knew Henry, Mrs. Knight?”

“Miss Knight. And we’re old friends, so-to-speak.”

Castiel observed her a moment. “You don’t seem old enough to have been old friends with him.”

“I’m older than I look,” she said, amused. “And we had a mutual friend in common. I used to work with Mr. Winchester. A very long time ago. It’s a long story, but I’ve known Henry all my life. In a way, I suppose I could say I owe him my first employment, even.”

“You worked at the ranch?”

“Oh, no. No,” she said, laughing, looking around. “Um, that’s—that’s not really my scene. No, I know the ranch was his baby, his prime legacy, but he made an impressive amount of investments and developments over the years. Not just on this land or in the region, but all over the world, as well. But no, I used to work at the firm he employed.”

“Not anymore?”

“I had new ventures in sight.”

“Speaking of which, we heard an odd rumor about a ridiculous clause in the will,” said Mr. Roman. He looked right at Castiel for more information, but when he remained silent, he continued speaking. “Something like Dean would inherit the entirety of the ranch, but only if he popped a certain question. Certain board members and investors, I have heard, are concerned,” he said, eyeing the group Castiel was observing a moment ago. “It seemed ridiculous at first, and yet here you are. A Novak at Henry Winchester’s memorial service. Next to Dean. As if no time at all had passed. Difficult times do make people do crazy things sometimes. And let me tell you, everyone here is on edge,” he said, laughing. “Almost expecting Mr. Winchester to propose. But that would be rather silly, wouldn’t it?”

“It would,” said Castiel finally, “as we are already married.” He lifted his left hand, revealing his wedding ring, which he had made zero effort to hide.

Castiel had to admit that seeing the blunt expressions on their faces had been worth the blunt delivery.

“I’ve heard many stories concerning the audacities of Charles Novak,” said Miss Knight. “The almighty, they called him, once. I was under the impression that his children were rather tame compared to him, even if they still showed signs of his nature. I admit that _this_,” she said, holding his hand closer to see the ring, “is a bold and desperate move that I don’t even think good old Charles would have been able to pull. I’m curious, why would Henry push for such anarrangement? No one seems to be very clear on the details. Which is why there are so many rumors. The most popular one at the moment is blackmail. From your end, evidently—”

“Mr. Roman and Miss Knight, so nice of you to be here today,” said Dean, who suddenly appeared next to him.

“Dean, yes. Very nice service,” said Mr. Roman, still examining Castiel. “And it seems like congratulations are in order,” he said, raising his glass.

“Thank you, goes right to the heart,” said Dean. He slid his arm under Castiel’s, pulling him away from them, and said, “If you don’t mind, my husband and I have some other people we need to thank.”

“Or course. See you both very soon,” he snarled.

“Can’t wait.” Dean and Castiel were now slowly walking away from them and towards the food display. They smiled at everyone who expressed quick words of sympathy to them. Dean kept his pace slow, but he was keeping Castiel very close with a tight grip, as if he was afraid someone would have taken him away from him.

“Are you okay?” asked Castiel as discreetly as possible.

“Me? I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about,” answered Dean. “I—he—hold on, I just want to get out of here, first.”

They finally made it past the table and stood in a corner by themselves. Dean faced him.

“Are you okay? I heard something happened with Ishim.”

Castiel frowned. “I’m fine, Dean. Don’t worry about me. You have enough going on,” he said, gesturing around them. “I can manage. That was nothing.”

Dean studied him for a moment, and let out a sigh. He nodded, but Castiel could tell he wasn’t convinced.

“One more hour of this and then I’m calling it. We’re out of here, and we can put this day behind us. Sound great?”

Castiel nodded. He picked up a new drink and was about to find Donna and others, but Dean stopped him. “I’d prefer if you’d stick around me. No one’s gonna try anything that way. Not today, anyway.”

“Dean, I told you. I’m fine. I’m—I’m used to it.”

“Well, I’m not. I’m not used to it and I’m certainly not fine with it. Come on, let’s find the people who actually still have a soul around.”

True to his word, Dean started thanking and saying goodbyes to certain people after an hour had passed. Sam and Jessica said goodbye to Dean and Castiel, with big and warm hugs again, and Castiel and Dean made their way home.

Relief instantly hit them both the moment they stepped into the house. They sat at the kitchen counter. Neither of them was hungry, so Dean served Castiel a beer and they just took in the day, resting.

“Does that happen often?” asked Dean.

“Sometimes, yes. People don’t forget. But I told you, it’s fine. I’m used to it.”

Dean frowned.

“I think that’s bullshit, Cas. First of all, this has nothing to do with you. It’s about your dad. And second, I was always under the impression that your father hadn’t even done anything, anyway. Why do people still act like this?”

“He—look, it’s complicated. And it doesn’t matter what happened. They needed someone to blame. And while he—that’s the narrative people prefer. It fit their story. There’s no use trying to tell them otherwise when they’ve made up their minds. I’ve learned it’s much simpler to let them think whatever they want. That’s what they’ll do anyway.”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t know if I could do that.”

“It’s not a question of if I could or not. At the end of the day I don’t really have that choice. Let them say or think what they want. At least I know where they stand.”

Dean observed him for a moment. “I feel like you didn’t just come up with that nugget of wisdom overnight.”

“No,” said Castiel, laughing. “I had—um, roughly more than a decade to figure it out.”

Dean let out a sigh. “Well, I’m still sorry you had to deal with this. I knew there would be issues rising from, well, this” he said, playing with his ring. “But this is something I hadn’t anticipated and now I feel stupid that I didn’t think of it.”

“I’m the one who should have warned you. I told you, I’m used to it. I forget that people don’t know. I actually assumed you knew.”

“Okay, well, now that I know, you have to promise me something. If anything like this happens, please let me know.”

Castiel laughed, leaning on his elbow. “And you’ll what? Scold them on my behalf?”

“I just—it’s not right, Cas. No one deserves that bullshit. Just—at least tell me so you’re not left to deal with it alone. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Once again, exhausted from their day, they both had a quiet and short evening, before calling it a night and wishing each other good night.

Unlike the previous night, however, Castiel didn’t fall asleep the moment his head touched his pillow.

Even if his mind required rest, it was anything but restful. His thoughts kept bouncing off many different things, which kept him wide awake and frustrated that sleep wouldn’t come to him.


	4. Welcome to the Neighborhood

“Are you sure you don’t want to take it easy today?”

At breakfast, on the following morning, Dean was insisting that Castiel should perhaps stay home and rest instead of undertaking a proper tour of the ranch like they had planned. “The last couple of days have been intense. The ranch will still be there tomorrow.”

But Castiel, who was generally stubborn by nature, was repelled by the prospect of sitting down all day and doing nothing but staring at the walls, however calming that might be.

“I’ve been looking forward to it since I decided to come here.”

Dean nodded. “All right. We’ll finish breakfast and head over there.”

“What should I wear? Nearly all I have are my suits.”

“Those are fine, of course. You wear whatever you want, Cas. I told you. We’re not super strict about that here. We do have a standard jumpsuit that we use on certain jobs to avoid soiling our clothes, but that’s usually maintenance or outdoorsy stuff. Other than that, it’s up to you. If it comes to that, you can borrow one of those, no problem.”

Castiel, sipping on his orange juice, reflected on the matter. He watched Dean take the last bite of his toast and then something occurred to him.

“Does this count as the meal we’re supposed to share?”

Dean froze and eyed their breakfast. “Probably not? I mean it could, but—yeah, we never really discussed that one, did we?”

He drank from his coffee mug and then said, “We can probably apply this to any time we want during the day, but if you’re okay with that, I’d suggest we reserve that for dinners. I—I don’t know. Lunch is tricky, I often have to skip it.”

“Same. It happened at my job, too,” admitted Castiel.

“And breakfast, it sometimes gets me a little while before waking up properly. And I’m often rushed. Which leaves dinner.”

“That sounds reasonable. What about cooking?”

“I can cook. You?”

“Yes. I love to cook.”

“Me too.”

“How about we prepare it together, then?”

Dean stared at him.

“We’re supposed to share the meal together,” continued Castiel. “I think it would make sense if we prepare it together as well.”

“That’s actually a good idea. I like it.”

“Yes? So that’s what we’ll do tonight?”

Dean nodded, smiling.

Shortly after, they got dressed and made their way to the ranch by foot. When they arrived at the main building, most of the staff was waiting for them with warm and genuine smiles, as much as inquisitive minds.

Everyone present was eager to finally meet Castiel, so much so that he suspected Dean had warned his employees to give him a cheerful welcome to make sure Castiel wouldn’t freak out and feel like an outcast right off the bat.

And yet, everyone sounded sincere.

After a brief introduction, where Castiel tried his best to remember everybody’s names, people went back to their usual occupations, and Castiel was left with Dean and Donna to begin the tour of the ranch.

As they made their way through the main building, Castiel, just as he had thought, deduced that it wasn’t much unlike how the Lazarus operated. Donna and Dean showed Castiel the new wing, where rooms were available for guests to stay. There was also the gym (and the locker room) that Dean had mentioned, and Castiel was also delighted to learn they even had a large interior pool.

They visited the other major room on the main floor, which was very similar to the one where Henry’s memorial had been held, with the exception of the fireplace, which consisted of a shiny dark marble.

They met the kitchen staff, who were supervised by Aaron Bass, a nice and good-humored man, and they explored the spacious and splendid dinning room.

“There’s a bar section at the end,” pointed Donna, “and our main bartender, Pamela—you met her yesterday—she’s the best.”

Then they carried on outside towards the stables slowly.

“Is Jim Murphy still overseeing the horses?”

Dean shook his head. “No. He retired a while back. But an awesome single mom, Tasha Banes, took the job. She actually moved into my parents’ old house with her twins, Max and Alicia. They’re teenagers now and totally bright, absolutely intuitive about everything, like their mom.”

“That’s great. I can’t wait to meet them.”

Drawing closer to the stables, Castiel could already see someone tending to a large dark horse.

“I used to love helping to do that before,” said Castiel. “Jim let us help him to feed and brush them. I know it’s been a while, and I obviously would leave the main stuff to the professionals who actually know what they are doing, but could I do it still? I would even like to learn more.”

Dean and Donna chuckled.

“What? That’s a no? Is Mrs. Banes against it?  
“Tasha, no, not at all. Quite the opposite,” said Donna.

“Anyone is welcome to learn feeding and tending to the horses.”

“Really? Any employee?”

“Yes. In fact, we encourage any employee to stray a bit from their regular responsibilities if they want, not just for the horses, but anything else they’d wish to learn. It breaks the routine and it allows people to familiarize themselves with other stuff too. So if there is a problem, almost anyone can chip in.”

Castiel stopped and his eyes bounced from Donna to Dean, convinced they were pulling his leg.

“You don’t believe me,” said Dean, smiling.

“That sounds too good to be true. Everyone is on board with this? Nobody minds people overstepping? How does anything get done?”

Donna beamed at him. “I guess you’ll just have to see.”

Tasha was a spirited and kind woman, thought Castiel the moment he met her. They did a quick round of the place, where Castiel had the chance of meeting Alicia and Max, though rather briefly, as they were loading the hay in one of the trucks.

At one point, Donna was busy speaking with Tasha about schedules, and Dean discreetly gestured Castiel to follow him.

“Come on, I want you to meet someone,” said Dean, pulling on his sleeve.

Not far ahead, Dean stopped at one of the stalls. He peeked inside, smiling.

“Hey bud, how are you doing this morning?”

A large dark, brown horse, with a long black mane, advanced towards them. Dean pulled out an apple from his jacket and presented it to the horse, who eagerly chewed on it.

“Cas, this is Dave Mather.”

“He’s beautiful, Dean. He’s yours?”

“Yep. He’s a mustang. A bit temperamental and free spirited, but he’s okay. I don’t deserve this guy. Want to give him another apple?”

Castiel nodded and Dean presented him another fruit he had retrieved from his jacket. Just as Castiel was about to extend his arm slowly to Dave Mather, the horse in the next stall neighed loudly at them.

“All right, all right,” said Dean, laughing. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you.”

They approached the next stall, where another horse of a darker shade had its head out, peeking at them.

“So this is my other horse, Elliot Ness. He’s a bit nosy. And he doesn’t like when I play favoritism, as you can see.”

Castiel imitated Dean by presenting the apple to Elliot Ness the same way he had earlier and the horse reached out for it with enthusiasm. He carefully stroked his face, and his long mane. The horse stepped a little closer, extending his neck, to allow Castiel better access.

“Look at that. Grumpy likes you,” said Dean.

Castiel smiled. “What type is he?”

“Thoroughbred. They’re mostly known for racing, which makes them excellent for sports too, like hunting or polo. They’re good for dressage.”

“Does he race?”

“No, he’s living the life is what he’s doing,” said Dean, patting him on his neck. “And he even made a new friend.”

He spotted Donna signaling him outside, so Dean and Castiel said goodbye to Dave Mather and Elliot Ness, and Dean promised they would come back soon enough for Castiel to enjoy a ride.

“I haven’t rode a horse since the last time I was here,” he confessed.

“It’s like riding a bike. Don’t worry.”

They were approaching one the newest stables with Donna. She was explaining that not far ahead was their garden and greenhouse.

That’s when Castiel had to finally ask the question he had been sitting on the whole morning.

“Where do you suggest I work?”

Dean laughed again. “I told you, anywhere you’d like.”

“But where do you need help? Or where are you low on man power, that’s where I should help.”

“Your assistance is helpful anywhere, Cas,” said genuinely Donna.

“What do you want to do?”

“Dean, I can’t—I don’t want to overstep.”

“You won’t—this isn’t—”

“Dean, sorry,” barged in Bobby. “Sorry,” he repeated. “Cas. Donna,” he nodded to them, and returned his attention to Dean. “Um, you’re needed at the front. Adler showed up.”

Dean sighed and looked at sky. “Has he been there long?”

“Nah, like five minutes. He’s waiting in the main office.”

“Awesome,” groaned Dean. “Thanks, Bobby.”

And Bobby returned to where he had come from after another apologetic nod to Donna and Castiel.

Dean looked at Donna and Castiel, annoyed at the situation. “I’m so sorry, I have to go.”

“Of course, Dean. Don’t worry about it,” said Donna, and Castiel nodded at him.

“I’ll finish the tour with Donna, no problem. And I’ll see you later.”

Dean hesitated a moment, but he knew he had to leave and that Castiel would be in good hands with Donna, so he nodded, told them to reach out for him for anything and he would try to come back to them as soon as he could.

Dean gone, Donna and Castiel strolled to the large barn where a lot of equipment was stored.

“Who’s Mr. Adler?” he asked, unfamiliar with the name.

Donna pursed her lips. “He’s an important investor and a board member. And he used to work with Mr. Winchester. I wouldn’t say he partially owns the ranch, but if Dean wouldn’t have—well, let’s just say that Mr. Adler would be the best placed to gain control of the ranch if it wasn’t for Dean.”

Castiel leaned his head back, as he remembered Dean’s concerns about who to trust with the ranch.

They passed by a large barn where nearly all the vehicles rested (and where Bobby and a few others tended to them). Donna showed him some of the cabins that had been built since Castiel’s last visit, as well as some of the larger cottages. They walked by the quiet section where most of the employees lived, (small cabins and houses), and they even ventured briefly down the new hiking trail Dean had mentioned on his arrival.

They also observed the many different enclosure for the horses (pastures, corrals, etc.)

After a quick lunch outside at a picnic table, Donna and Castiel continued the tour.

While he was trying to remember everything she was telling him about the ranch and the loving staff he met, one thing became very clear to Castiel. The ranch was exactly how he had remembered it: a family place.

Not necessarily a family establishment, per se, but based on the warm welcome he received by everyone, as well as their familiarity to one another, it was obvious that everyone working there was respectful and loving to each other.

Castiel had often prided himself to have attempted such a thing at the Lazarus, and for the most part he would like to think that he had succeeded in doing that, but witnessing it firsthand to that degree, he had to admit that it was something to aspire for.

Perhaps his trip and this adventure would teach him something he could bring back with him to the hotel after all.

Once they reached the greenhouse and gardens, Castiel made the acquaintance of Ash and Kevin.

Like the rest of the staff, they were pleasant company. Donna received a call from Garth requesting her assistance, and Castiel told her he would love to stay here and help Ash and Kevin if they wouldn’t mind.

All three of them were shocked at his request, but Ash and Kevin didn’t mind one moment. As it happened, they were extremely happy that Castiel wanted to give them a hand.

“You know where I’ll be, Cas, if you need anything. Don’t be shy one second, all right?” Donna reminded him before dashing back to the main building.

Kevin handed him a jumpsuit. “We also have just regular sweat pants and a t-shirt that you can change into as well,” he said, pointing at the small shed, attached to the greenhouse.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Castiel happily followed Ash’s instructions as he picked tomatoes and the fresh herbs the kitchen staff would need, all the while listening to Ash and Kevin telling him more about themselves and the ranch.

But past six, Ash insisted on sending him home. They graciously thanked him for his help and his good work, even more so to have had the pleasure of his company and were looking forward to seeing him again.

To which Castiel agreed heartily.

Slowly heading back home, Castiel felt exhausted. Walking was almost difficult, and physical labor, no matter how much he worked out and did yoga religiously on a daily basis, was apparently not his forte. He had a feeling that every muscle would hurt the next day.

A luxurious relaxing bath, followed by a twelve hours nap, sounded extremely appealing to him. It dawned on him then that perhaps he should have listened to Dean—and everyone else around him—about taking it easy on his first day.

As he entered the house, he was surprised to smell something delicious.

“Hey, you made it! Perfect timing, it’s alm—oh,” and Dean stopped mid-sentence. He wasn’t laughing, but he looked at Castiel with a massive grin on his face. “Are you okay?”

“You cooked?” he said, taking in the sight of Dean wearing an apron and a wooden spoon in hand.

“Um,” he said, looking around in the kitchen, “Yeah. You look beat. Are you okay?” he repeated.

“I’m fine. I’ll probably be sore tomorrow, but I’m fine. Why?”

“Haven’t seen yourself, have you?”

Castiel shook his head, turned into the mirror right next the front entrance and saw with shock the poor state he was in. Dirt on his forehead and cheek. And his hair was all over the place. And he was still wearing his jumpsuit.

“What happened to your suit?”

“Changed it. And… forgot it.”

“I’ll still be there tomorrow,” Dean assured him.

“Maybe I should change before dinner. Actually, I should probably clean up entirely.”

“All right. You have time. It’s not ready yet.”

Castiel frowned. “But Dean, I thought—I thought the point was to…”

“Do this together. Yes. It is. I’m sorry. And we’ll do that. But, um, I kinda needed the distraction. And I felt like doing it tonight. It was your first day. I wanted to do this. As a welcoming thing.”

Castiel looked at him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go have a shower and all that. I have a few things that still need looking after here,” he lifted his hand in protest as Castiel was about to ask if he needed help, “but I got it under control. I swear.”

Castiel still didn’t move, unconvinced that this was fair, which then prompted Dean to add, “You can take care of the desert later on, if you want. How about that? I didn’t make anything.”

Castiel’s shoulders lowered in relief, and he nodded. “Okay, that sounds like a good idea.”

He left Dean to his pots when it was obvious that he seemed completely at ease with everything, chanting and chopping parsleys.

Castiel went to his room, shed his clothes and took a quick warm shower. He scrubbed away the sweat and dirt of the day and let the warm water help calm his tensed and tire body.

He quickly dried himself, put aside a pair of pajamas for later, and opted for a nice, but not too nice, outfit. This whole situation was already weird, but he wanted to look like he was making an effort, yet still feel comfortable.

When he joined Dean back in the kitchen, he was surprised to see that in addition to having cooked an entire meal, and managing to have taken care of the mess in the kitchen, Dean had also laid out a nice table for their dinner.

“You set up the table?”

Dean nodded with a smile, but it soon disappeared when he noticed Castiel’s confused look. “I thought it would be nice.”

“It _is _nice.”

“You think it’s weird?”

“I—I can’t say I remember having a meal—a proper home-cooked meal at that—with someone setting the table in that fashion in…I can’t remember.”

Dean nodded. “Growing up, Granddad always used to set the table before dinner. Didn’t matter if we had guests or not. Didn’t matter what we had to eat. Be it birthday celebration dinner or pizza, he would always set the table. That was his thing. I used to think it was everywhere because he used to do it and we lived here, so…Anyways, as you can see, I learned the habit.”

Castiel smiled. “That’s nice, actually. Can I do anything to help?”

Dean shook his head. “Nope. Everything has been taken care of today. I was just about to take it off the burner.”

He sat down as Dean brought the pot to the table.

“It smells delicious. Wait—is that…is that the—”

“Millie’s chili, yes.”

In one whiff, everything came back to Castiel. After blowing on it, he took one spoonful and smiled. “This is so odd. I had completely forgotten about this chili until two minutes ago, and yet, now that I remember it, it tastes exactly the same. How did you make it? I thought…”

Dean nodded as he stirred his spoon in his bowl, letting the steam out. “After my grandmother died, it was difficult. Smelling it, never mind eating it, was difficult. Granddad still had all her recipes, and Mom even offered to have a go at it a few times, but I think it was too hard after she had passed. When my parents died, I think Granddad felt guilty for some reason. Like he should have let Mom try. It’s funny how sometimes the things we regret are often seemingly irrelevant at the time. Anyways, after that, he attempted it himself to cheer Sam and me up. It took him a few tries,” he laughed, “but we helped him, and this,” he said, gesturing at the pot, “is pretty much closest it got to what we remembered.” He stared blankly at his bowl for an instant. “I don’t know why I made it. Now I feel like it just brought up a bunch of really sad memories and that was really not what I wanted to do. I just—I always liked this. It was my favourite and I know I can’t mess it up. And I knew you had actually tasted the original so maybe you’d remember. I thought it would be good comfort food.”

“I’m happy you made it Dean. I remember this. It’s exactly how I remember it. Brings back good memories too.”

Encouraged and reassured, Dean nodded and smiled shyly.

“So, first day?”

“I’m exhausted. Physical labor, it seems, does not agree with me.”

“You’ll get there,” he laughed. “You seemed to be handling yourself.”

“You saw me?”

“I may have strolled around the greenhouse when Donna mentioned where she left you off,” he said, smiling at the corner of his mouth. “Everybody cool with you?”

“Yes. Everyone is very charming and patient. It’s almost unsettling to meet so many people eager to not only work with me, but simply talk with me at all.”

“And in general, you—you’re still fine with everything?” Dean observed him. He was smiling, but if Castiel didn’t know any better, it would think that Dean looked almost worried about his answer.

“I assure you, I’m fine, Dean.” Castiel couldn’t help but feel gloomy at the thought that Dean was worried about him. Though he appreciated the sentiment.

“I just want to make sure Cas. I know—this is a lot.”

“You’re concerned about me? Dean, you’re the one who just suffered a loss. _How are you? _In the midst of your grief, you have to not only deal with the pressure of your grandfather’s legacy, but a lot of other people are counting on you. _This is a lot_, and you’re desperately trying to make sure _I’m fine, too_? I’m okay. This is a very curious situation, but I mean, the people are extremely nice. I live in a mansion, which I will never be able to afford in the future. You just cooked us a meal. I don’t think I can really complain right now.”

Dean swallowed. “That might be true, Cas, but it’s still—even if my situation is overwhelming, it doesn’t mean that your issues aren’t valid. I just—just tell me if there’s a problem, okay? No matter what. Even if I’m the problem. Especially, if it’s me.”

Not sure what to say, Castiel nodded and said, “If it comes to that, I will.”

Dean nodded firmly, satisfied with Castiel’s acknowledgement.

“You didn’t answer my question,” pointed out Castiel. “How are you feeling?

“I’m good.”

Castiel held his stare, waiting for him to elaborate. Dean lowered his eyes and stirred his spoon in his bowl.

“I’m fine, really. I’m not about to have a meltdown, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s just—” he started saying, but stopped himself.

Castiel gave him a moment to continue, but Dean shifted in his seat, eyes still on his bowl of chili. “It’s just what?”

Dean took a deep breath. “It’s just weird. That Granddad isn’t here, I mean. For the past week, I—there have been moments where I momentarily forget that he’s gone. I’m just doing my usual stuff and then I think of something to tell him or ask him, and then it hits me that I can’t anymore. It’s upsetting. But not like, I’m gonna drop on the floor. And that’s weird, too. Almost like I don’t—I just, isn’t it weird?”

“Not that I’m an expert on the subject, but I don’t think this sounds unusual at all.”

“Yeah, but that’s not how it—”

He cleared his throat, let go of his spoon, and leaned back on his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. And that’s when Castiel understood what Dean was getting at.

“That’s not how it was with your parents,” he said gently.

Dean lifted his eyes and shook his head. Castiel wasn’t sure where to nudge the conversation from this point on. He didn’t want to grill Dean on his family members’ deaths this early on, particularly when Dean evidently wasn’t overly open to it.

But, remembering Henry’s letter, he didn’t want to ignore it as well.

“I haven’t dealt much with grief, Dean. But I don’t think there is a right or wrong way to react to this. I don’t think you should beat yourself up or question yourself by comparing the two.” He paused, briefly hesitating if he should continue. He then said, “Do you want to tell me how it was with your parents?”

To his surprise and relief, Dean didn’t dismiss the idea instantly. He at least took a moment to ponder on the option, but he then calmly said, “Not right now, no. If that’s okay.”

“Of course. Just know I’m here whenever you want.”

Dean nodded, with a faint smile. He leaned forward and grabbed his spoon again, ready to eat.

Castiel spent the rest of their meal inquiring about the people he had met that day. He knew it was probably best to hear information about them directly from the person in question, but given that he had to get to know a lot of people very quickly, he figured that asking Dean for help and pointers about his employees wouldn’t be too bad either.

It turned out to be great idea. Not unlike when Dean had done so briefly at Castiel’s apartment, he shared a lot of information concerning their skills and characters, which really helped Castiel shape them in his mind.

But more than that, Dean also had a lot of anecdotesto tell. Stories, sometimes about how they got to the ranch in the first place, sometimes about where they came from, or simply a story about how they had once handled a situation on the ranch.

None of the stories were embarrassing. Well, maybe some would feel embarrassed, not because Dean was making fun of them, but rather because of the amount of pride and awe that Dean clearly had of every single person surrounding him.

Castiel had known that Dean cared for his employees since the night he appeared at the hotel. That much had always been obvious, and he wouldn’t have been able to think it any other way considering where he came from and his family. It hadn’t mattered that he hadn’t seen or heard of Dean in over a decade. Simply talking to him that night, Castiel had known this about him.

But hearing him firsthand recounting stories, personal and loving stories, about people, who Castiel could now put a face to, was very different. It was then very clear to him that when Dean had said that the ranch, everyone who worked there, was like family to him, he hadn’t meant it as a loose expression. He had meant it from his heart.

As he listened to Dean, Castiel was once more hit with a rush of relief and that he had accepted Dean’s proposal.

He couldn’t help but wonder, however, about Henry’s decision in his will. Since Castiel, and everyone who would pay attention, could clearly see how Dean felt about the place and its people, he was confused more than ever as to why Henry Winchester would have issued this whole charade to his grandson. But whatever the answer to this question was, Castiel could never find it.

After they finished their meal, as Dean was tending to the last of the dishes and putting what was left of the chili in the fridge for them to eat the next day, Castiel busied himself with making cookie dough. It was the simplest thing to do on short notice and his usual recipe, which he had perfected during his years of studies for moral support, wasn’t complicated at all.

Dean was in the living room checking something on his phone when Castiel put the cookies in the oven. He set the timer, cleaned what needed to be washed and joined him in the living room.

But on his way there, something caught his eye.

On one of the table chairs, there was a wrapped package that he hadn’t noticed before.

“What’s this?”

Dean looked up from his phone. “Right. I totally forgot. Um, it’s for you. A sort of welcoming present.”

Castiel opened his mouth but shut it. Uncomfortable, he then said, “I didn’t know we were supposed to do this. I feel bad, I didn’t get you anything.”

“You didn’t have to,” laughed Dean. “As you’re the one who arrived here. It’s just—it’s a silly gift, really. But it’s tradition, so I thought it would be a good idea.”

“Can I open it?”

Dean nodded.

Castiel carried the box to the living room where he took a seat next to Dean on the couch. He carefully tore the wrapping, and opened the box to see what was inside. He let out a small laugh.

Cowboy boots. Brand new cowboy boots.

“See,” said Dean. “It’s a silly gift. But since you’ll be living here, I thought it would be handy.”

“And of fashion, no doubt.”

“Of course,” replied Dean, beaming at him.

Castiel retrieved the boots from the box to examine them more properly. The boots were dark brown, nearly black, with meticulous blue stitching. The detail in the stitching was actually beautiful. As Castiel ran his fingers over it, the patterns reminded him of wings. He took off his shoes, and tried them on. They fitted perfectly. He stood up from the couch and started walking around in the living room to try them out.

“How did you know my size?”

“I had to be a creep and check from your other footwear. It was that or bringing you directly to the store, but then it wouldn’t have been a surprise. Though, that way you could have chosen the pair yourself. So there was that option.”

“I love them.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, Dean. This is very nice and generous. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I told you, it’s tradition. Everyone in the family has a pair. And I just—I really just want to make sure you feel welcome here. Saying that you’re pretty much saving us all is an understatement. I appreciate it and I won’t forget it. Like, no matter what happens after, I won’t forget this.”

Castiel nodded and smiled at him not knowing what else to say. “I’ll have to break them in,” he said, as he took back his seat next to Dean.

They just stared at each other for a moment. Castiel wasn’t sure if he should hug him or not. It felt odd. Thankfully, the timer went off, giving Castiel the occasion to flee to the kitchen.

He came back to the living room with the plate of cookies and offered some to Dean (with a warning that it was hot) before putting it down on the coffee table.

Dean eagerly took a bite after blowing on it. “Oh my God, these are delicious. You just made these out of nowhere in five minutes?”

“I had a lot of practice,” Castiel informed him, as he helped himself to one. Dean was frowning. “What?”

“I’m just—what’s in it?”

“The usual stuff. Flour, sugar, eggs, etc.”

Dean shook his head. “No, there’s something else. Like, I don’t know,” he said, squinting his eyes. “It’s sweet, but not overly sweet. This tastes better than a regular chocolate chip cookie.”

Castiel smiled. “I’m surprised you noticed. Most people don’t.”

“So there is something in it, right? If you tell me the secret ingredient is love, I’m gonna make a face.”

Castiel laughed. “No. I add honey in it.”

Dean leaned back and looked down at the cookie he was holding. “Really? I never would have guessed of doing that. It’s so good. What gave you that idea?”

“I love honey and always have a jar of it at home usually. More natural, the better, of course. And one night, during my studies, I was getting discouraged so I decided to take a break from cramming and I made a batch of cookies. It was in the middle of the night and that’s when I realized that I didn’t have enough sugar to make a full batch. I decided to improvise, and it surprisingly didn’t turn out that bad.”

“Well, I like it,” said Dean, helping himself to another cookie. He smiled, still chewing.

After a time, they both decided to call it a night. They were both tired of their day. As Dean locked the doors and Castiel made a final sweep around to turn off the lights, they then headed in silence down the hallway.

When they reached each their respective bedroom doorways, they stood still awkwardly for a moment.

“So, this was…not unpleasant,” said Dean. “A bit awkward, maybe, but—”

“Yes, this was fun, actually.”

“Yeah. Same.”

Silence.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes. Tomorrow.”

“And, let me know if there’s a problem or something.”

“As I’m probably going to fall into a mini coma, I think I should be fine.”

Dean laughed. “All right. Night Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

The next few days were pleasant, but difficult for Castiel. He tried to keep himself occupied with as much as he could in the hope to avoid being hit with homesickness. For the most part, it worked.

Rediscovering the ranch and the people around him, who constantly stunned him by their increasingly eagerness to work with him, was a delight.

The general ambiance between the workers he had observed on his first day had not wavered one moment since then and Castiel was fascinated by it.

While he often had had difficulty reading certain social clues in his life, after working in Manhattan with very particular guests all these years—not to mention the unsavoury encounters he had, given his family situation—if there were two things that he could discern without a doubt, they were lies and phoniness.

People, he always had thought, weren’t as good as liars as they claimed to be.

Regardless of how hard they tried at it or not.

But no one here—and really, not one single person present at the ranch—had given him that vibe.

Which felt like a miracle.

But his first week had still been problematic.

The main issue lay with Castiel’s sleep.

Used to live in the noisy city, Castiel found that the ranch was almost too quiet for him. No traffic. No honking or police sirens to be heard. No neighbors screaming at all hours of the night.

Silence and darkness.

For the most part.

The stillness of the nights had seemed to intensify every little sound ten times over. Faint drops from the showerhead. An owl hooting. The wind against the leaves.

But the sounds (and lack thereof) around him weren’t the only cause for his restlessness: his living space was also an issue.

Castiel was used to his restrained and private living quarters. Finding himself living under the roof of—what felt to him as—a colossal house, surprisingly rendered him nervous.

Additionally, he was aware that other people had access to the house (like certain trusted employees and a few staff members), but Castiel had this odd feeling like someone kept lurking around him.

He had reasoned, however, that this last concern was most probably due to the fact that Castiel felt slightly exposed at the ranch, considering everyone knew about him, while he was still trying to familiarize with everyone.

That and the fact that everyone knew the circumstances of his presence.

He thus spent most of his nights tossing and turning, fighting his mind to rest, until he finally gave up and read for a few hours. It seemed to do the trick because eventually sleep would come.

But his limited—and not exactly restful—sleep took its toll on him.

Convinced that it was simply a mild adjustment to deal with, Castiel did his best to power through it and keep it to himself.

But by the end of the week, Dean had noticed that something was off with him.

“Are you sleeping all right?” he asked him at breakfast on Friday morning. They were both seated at the counter, eating their breakfast quietly, side by side, and trying to wake up for the day. Dean smelled his coffee, as if the mere odor of caffeine would be enough to work its magic, while Castiel was blowing on his ginger tea.

“I’m okay. Why?”

“Um, I noticed your light was still on in the middle of the night yesterday. And some other nights this week too.” Assessing that Castiel looked puzzled at his comment, he then explained, “I keep forgetting my phone in the living room. I wake up during the night and want to check the time and that’s when I realize where it is. Every time I went to get it, I noticed your light was on. I almost knocked to see if you were okay, but anyways—are you okay?”

Castiel swallowed. “I’ll be fine. I’m adjusting to the place, I guess. That drop in the shower is really annoying though.”

Dean let out a short laugh. “If that’s the only problem, I’ll take care of it right away. And we can switch rooms tonight, if you want.”

“The drop is a problem, but not the only one,” admitted Castiel. He then explained to Dean why he had difficulty sleeping. He shared all his concerns, except for the one where his paranoia was playing tricks on him.

“I’m sorry, Cas. I should have known that you wouldn’t instantly feel—I should have done something.”

“Don’t worry. I told you, I’m okay and this is simply a question of adjustment.” But Dean, with an anxious look on his face, didn’t appear to be convinced. “If it continues to be an issue, I’ll tell you.”

Dean observed him for a moment and nodded. They went back to their breakfast and soon they left the house for work.

While the rest of the day occurred without any inconvenience, the same could not have been said about that night.

Both worn out from their week, Castiel and Dean went to their rooms after a quiet evening and another nice meal (where Castiel had made eggplant fajitas, to Dean’s stupefaction, which had been incredibly delicious despite the lack of meat).

The rest of Castiel’s night followed through with the same issue he had endured the whole week. Faint sounds aggravated him. Tossing and turning. Fixing his pillow on the other side. Taking off the covers. Pulling back on the covers. Castiel turned his head to his nightstand, stared at his book and debated if he should start reading right this instant instead of simply waiting an hour.

But that’s when he noticed that the shower wasn’t leaking anymore. Lying on his back, he listened, almost convinced it was still there and he simply hadn’t heard it properly yet.

But nothing.

A smile of relief grew on Castiel’s face. Dean had taken care of it. Just as he had said he would. Grateful and contented, he reminded himself to thank Dean in the morning.

He turned on his side, fixed his pillow one more time, shut his eyes and took deep soothing breaths in the hope of calming his mind.

And eventually, he felt himself slowly drifting off, before falling to sleep, as he prayed this would be night when he would finally get the good night sleep he had yearned for all week.

It wasn’t. Not just yet.

At some point during the night, Castiel drowsily shifted position in his bed, when he realized his right arm was numb. He opened his eyes slowly and after a moment when his eyes adjusted to the room, he discerned someone standing right next to his bed. Momentarily paralyzed, he held his breath and stared at the quiet and dark figure, wondering if he was dreaming or not.

Then, he heard in a forbidden tone, “Don’t get too comfy, Novak.”

Castiel abruptly sat up, ready to jump to his feet, feeling the adrenaline spread throughout his entire body. But the individual threw a large and heavy object on his chest, causing Castiel to remain seated on his bed, watching his assailant fleeing out of his room.

Gasping for air after the mysterious heavy item had hit him hard, Castiel pushed it on the ground, and clumsily hurried to his doorway, now worried that they might have gone after Dean too.

He barely had time to get out of bed, however, when he heard a commotion down the hallway. It appeared that the intruder, in his hurry to flee the scene, had run into a few things on his way out.

Castiel stood by the doorway, listening to a door sliding open.

That was when Dean opened his bedroom door. “Cas? What’s happening?” he asked, not quite awake. “Still trouble sleeping?” He rubbed his face, trying to wake himself up.

“Dean, someone’s in the house.”

Dean stared at him. “What?”

“Someone is—was or is in the house,” repeated Castiel.

Definitely alert now, Dean held his breath, and looked frantically on each side to the hallway. “Wh—Where? What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. I think. But somebody was here. They were in my room and they ran out. I think they went out by the patio door in the living room.”

Even though they couldn’t properly see each other because of the darkness surrounding them, Castiel clearly noticed Dean’s expression changing from fretful to anger. He stepped into the guest room, turned on the light and scanned the room, which was evidently empty.

But his eyes fell on Castiel’s suitcase lying by the bed, and Castiel finally knew what had hit him.

Dean turned towards him, questioningly.

“They threw it at me. I didn’t know what it was.”

“They _what?_” He stepped forward to reach out to him, but Castiel took a small step back, and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m okay. Just freaked out. But Dean, someone was here. In the house. They might still—” and before Castiel could finish his sentence, Dean rushed past him.

“Stay here,” he said as he headed down the hallway.

A few seconds later, Dean came back. “Nobody is here, but one chair is way off and one of the lamps is on the ground. Not to mention the patio door is indeed wide open.” He let out a sigh. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Castiel nodded.

Dean seemed to be weighing on something, and then said, “Come on, I’ll make coffee and you can tell me what happened while we wait.” He gently rested his hand on Castiel’s shoulder, nudging him down the hallway towards the living room with him.

“Coffee? And wait for what?”

“Oh, I’m calling security of the ranch _and _the cops stat, because there is no fucking way I’m letting this go until we know what the fuck that was. The only reason why I haven’t done it yet is because my damn phone is still in the living room.”

“The cops? Really?”

“The sheriff is a friend of the family, and trust me, she will want to know about this.”

Within the next hour, Castiel had to retell his story many times to many different people. Rufus Turner, who was in charge of security of the ranch, was the first one to turn up at the house. After Dean and Castiel informed him of the intrusion, Rufus immediately sent word to his team to check the security footage of the ranch if anyone suspicious could have entered the property earlier during the day.

After the word had been given out of an intrusion, many employees who lived on the premises decided to pair up and scan the surrounding in case they would find anyone suspicious.

Garth, who had been on night clerk duties in the main building, claimed he never saw or heard any vehicle arrive or leave the ranch after midnight, which had been hours before the incident.

“It’s not like anyone could run out of here on foot,” said Dean. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“Unless they didn’t have very far to go,” pointed out Rufus grimly.

Dean shook his head. “That means a guest or—”

“One of our own. Yeah, I don’t like either of these options.”

Castiel swallowed and looked down.

“Cas?”

He shifted on his seat. “I’m—I’m sorry, Dean. I feel like this is my fault.”

Dean frowned.

“Hell no,” said Rufus. “This ain’t on you. Don’t you go feeling guilty that some ass-hat totally crossed the line, you hear me?”

“But—”

“He’s right, Cas. That is so not on you.”

Still feeling embarrassed, he nodded and took a sip of his coffee.

Not long after, Sheriff Jody Mills arrived. Rufus told her what he knew so far and then left Castiel and Dean with her.

Castiel and Dean recounted the incident once more, from the moment Castiel had woken up to when she arrived at the door. Jody listened attentively and took notes.

“What about your alarm system?” she asked, when they had reached the part where Dean had found the patio door open. “Had you turned it on before going to bed?”

“We don’t have one,” said Dean.

Jody nodded.

“Never needed one,” he said defensively. “I mean, this is nuts. This has never happened before. This is a peaceful place. Nothing like that ever happens. The most hostile stuff that ever occurred here are stern looks and passive-aggressive bullshit conversations. That’s it.”

“I know, Dean. Can you then—”

But she stopped when a loud knock was heard at the door. Everyone looked at each other confused.

“Expecting anyone?”

Dean shook his head. He walked to the door, and as he barely had time to open it, Sam burst through it.

“Sam? What are you doing here?” Sam immediately hugged him. “It’s the middle of the night. I told you we would talk in the morning.”

Sam let go of his brother and shook his head. “Are you serious? This is so messed up. I had to make sure you were both okay. Jess wants visual confirmation that you’re both in one piece.”

Dean, after having called the sheriff and Rufus, had also called Sam, despite the late hour. Given the rarity of such a thing happening, he knew that the news would have spread quickly, and gathered that Sam and Jessica would have preferred learning about it from him directly.

Sam joined them at the table, after letting out a sigh of relief at the sight of Castiel, unharmed, and signaled Jody to please continue what she was doing before he had interrupted them.

“Do you boys have any idea who would do this? Or why?”

Castiel bit the inside of his cheek, trying to avoid Dean’s eyes.

“I don’t know,” said Dean.

“You don’t know who would do this? Or why they would do this?”

“Both.”

“Doesn’t matter if it’s a crazy-out-there theory, Dean. We gotta start somewhere.”

Dean and Castiel exchanged looks.

“We don’t know because, the truth is,” said Castiel, “that the list could be very long.”

Jody stared at him. “Can you elaborate on that?”

“Whatever this threat was, I don’t know if it’s simply because of who am I, or the reason why I’m here, or both even. But whoever it is, they are evidently not happy that I am here.”

Jody turned her eyes to Dean and Sam, who remained silent on the other side of the table.

“Why would anyone have an issue with who you are, Castiel?”

“Do you know about my family?”

“Yes, of course. But surely people wouldn’t—certainly not to these lengths.”

“You’d be surprised.”

She turned to Dean, incredulous.

“I’ve seen it myself,” said Dean with a stern face.

“When?”

“At the memorial.”

Jody pursed her lips. “Anyone who would be responsible for tonight?”

Castiel shook his head. “I doubt it. Not the same vibe at all. This was way more intrusive and aggressive.”

“I’d like their names.”

Castiel remained silent.

“I won’t do anything. Just keeping them in mind.”

Castiel told her about Ishim, Mr. Roman and Miss Knight.

“Any one else?”

“Like I said, the list is long,” said Castiel, sighing.

“What about the reason you’re here? Why would that be an issue?”

Dean repositioned himself on his seat. “Um, you know why Cas is here, Jody?”

“I’ve heard the rumors, yes. And I noticed your rings,” she said with a smile.

“Okay, well, there’s been some, um, issues at the ranch. Not like, here, on the property, per se—until now, anyway—but more like high up.”

She nodded, listening.

“Let’s just say that not everyone is agreeing on which way to turn this boat around, and the fact that I get to hold the steering wheel is leaving some people upset.”

“I see. Enough to explain tonight?”

“Possibly, yes. But—”

“But what?”

“I have no idea who could do it. That’s the problem. The ones who are vocally against the idea don’t seem the type at all.”

“And the ones who aren’t?”

“We don’t know who they are, that’s the problem.”

“Has there been any other incident of the sort before tonight where either of you have been threatened, verbally or physically, concerning this particular issue? Even a small remark or something?”

Castiel shook his head.

But Dean remained still. His eyes then shifted towards Sam, who nodded to him. But Dean stayed quiet.

“Dean?”

“I—I may have received a few messages—”

“Threats,” said Sam.

“—fine, _threats_, over the past week or so.”

“What?” said Castiel.

“Like what?” asked Jody.

Dean swallowed. “Messages. A few anonymous emails. And one letter.”

“Do you still have them?”

Dean nodded. “Sam told me to not delete the emails.”

“I’d like to have a look at them, if that’s all right? But for now, can you tell me what was said in them? What about the letter?”

“I still have the letter too. And they were more or less the same. Just someone basically telling me to back off. To break off the marriage or they’d do it for me and expose me or something, which is ridiculous. I have nothing to hide.”

“When did you receive this?” asked Castiel, horrified. “And why didn’t you say anything?”

Sam looked down and leaned back in his seat.

“I didn’t want to freak you out, Cas. This was a bullshit intimidation tactic and I already felt bad about what had happened at the memorial, and that was the day _after _you had just arrived. I honestly thought they’d just send a few nasty letters or emails for a short time, and then get over it.”

“Sam, you knew about this?” asked Jody.

“Yes. Dean told me when he received the third email. That was just a day or two ago.”

“Why did you tell Sam?”

“I had a legal question regarding one of the emails. That’s the only reason why I told him about it.”

“Which is a small comfort, by the way,” said Sam.

“Look, I honestly didn’t think there was anything to it.”

“Well, maybe that’s the biggest clue. So, Dean, I’d like you to give me the letter and send me those emails.” He nodded, pulling up his phone. “And if anything else like this ever happens, to either of you,” she said, turning to Castiel as well, “I’d like to be informed.”

They both nodded.

“You didn’t receive anything of the sort, did you Castiel?”

“No. Like I said, with the exception of, um, some conversations I’ve had at the memorial, there was nothing bad. I’ve been working with the staff all week and nobody—absolutely nobody—has been anything else but nice to me. No mysterious messages or anything. Just—”

“Someone standing in your room, verbally and physically threatening you,” said Jody gravely.

Castiel swallowed.

Jody wrapped this up quickly afterwards. She asked a few more questions concerning the general security of the ranch and then left to meet Rufus and Garth, who were waiting for her at the front desk. She informed them that she would most likely be back the next day and that if they remembered anything else, they should call her, and that she would do the same if something turned up.

“Night, boys,” she said to Sam and Dean. “Castiel, it was nice to finally meet you. I just wished it would have been under better circumstances.”

The moment Jody was out of the door, Castiel asked Dean to see the emails.

“Cas, don’t, please.”

“I have a right to know.”

“You do. You absolutely do. And I—I’ll show you if you want, but I’d prefer you wouldn’t.”

“Why?”

Dean swallowed.

“That bad, huh?” He crossed his arms on his chest. “What was the legal question you needed to ask Sam?”

“Um—it’s, um—”

Castiel turned his eyes on Sam, who looked down, but was definitely trying to hold down a grin, to Castiel’s surprise.

“Dean?”

He cleared his throat. “Um, well, the main reason why I was calling was because they made allusion to the rules. Like in the email, they were threatening to expose us to be breaking the rules.”

“All of the rules?” asked Castiel, knowing full well the answer, as there was only one where they were putting a toe on the line of interpretation.

“No, one in particular.”

Castiel let out a sigh. “How would they know, though?”

“No idea,” said Dean, shaking his head, “and that’s why I called Sam. To find out if there was a way they could prove it. Technically, they can’t but—”

“But they’d only need a slip from one of you, or someone walking in—not unlike what happened tonight—to prove it,” continued Sam. “I told Dean his loophole wasn’t that solid. The best thing would be to follow the rules, so there’s no more surprises.”

“You think this will slow them down? Their objective is to stop us, Sam. Not encourage us.”

“They might not stop with the threats—though I really hope we find out who’s responsible and fast—but at least, if you follow everything to the letter, they can’t hold it against you.”

“So, from what I understand is that people are watching us more carefully than we thought.”

“The whole thing is kinda creepy.”

“No kidding,” said Sam. 

Rufus and Jody didn’t contact them again, so they came to the conclusion that no additional information would be shared with them until the morning and that they should all get some rest. Because of the late hour, Dean insisted that Sam should stay with them, but Sam promised that he would be fine driving back home. He took a quick picture of Castiel and Dean, despite their protest, to show Jessica that they were both all right, and wished them goodnight before leaving.

On their own again, Castiel and Dean stood awkwardly in the kitchen.

“You sure, you’re okay?” asked Dean, for the countless time.

“I’ll be fine. Right now, I think I’m just tired.”

They both remained in their spot.

“We don’t have to, Cas. The rules. We can continue like before.”

“Dean, um, I’m kinda creeped out by that room now,” admitted Castiel.

“Of course, I’m—you can take my bed if you want and I’ll sleep here on the couch.”

Castiel frowned and reflected at Dean’s suggestion. “Actually, I—I usually don’t really—I usually sleep better when I’m on my own. But nothing like this ever happened to me and you know what’s really weird?”

“What?”

“Don’t laugh, but, um, after what—after tonight, sleeping next to someone else doesn’t sound like a terrible idea right now.”

Dean didn’t move a muscle.

“I know I’m just being ridiculous,” said Castiel. “I’ll get over it, but—”

“It’s not ridiculous, Cas.” He shifted on his feet. “I’m used to sleep on my own as well, but, um, until we figure out how the hell did someone managed to get in without us knowing, having someone next to me would be reassuring too. Honestly, I’d sleep much better if I knew you’d be safe next to me.”

They stared at each other for a moment, not sure if they needed to add something or not, until Castiel finally broke the awkward silence by suggesting they should try to get a bit of shut-eye before the morning came.

They verified everything was locked, turned off all the lights and slowly reached Dean’s bedroom.

They stood in front of the king size bed.

“Which side do you prefer?” asked Dean.

“Um, the middle?”

Dean let out a short laugh. Castiel stepped towards the left side from the foot of the bed. “That one.”

“Perfect, I prefer the other one,” said Dean.

They both slid under the covers and lay on their backs next to each other.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

“Night, Cas.”

They both turned their backs to each other. Dean pulled the covers to his chin, while Castiel fixed his pillow.

Castiel wondered how he would be able to fall asleep after the night he had when sleep had already been such an issue for him all week long.

Quite unexpectedly, however, as he listened to Dean’s soft snores beside him, Castiel felt his mind and his body at ease, and soon his eyelids became heavy and his breaths became deeper.

And that night, ironically, became the first of many nights, that Castiel was finally able to sleep peacefully since he had since arrived on the ranch.

It was also the first night Castiel started having vivid dreams about Dean.


	5. A New Rule

As the pleasant fall weather settled in and brought along with it the change of colors in the trees, the few weeks that followed went by quickly and without any additional incidents. Wishful of putting that frightful night behind him, Castiel kept himself incredibly busy on the ranch.

He helped Donna and Garth, who were in charge of the front desk reception and customer service, on many occasions, especially when they requested additional manpower to help out with the guests. Castiel thought they were simply being polite, however, as they had evidently everything under control. He greatly enjoyed their company and got along wonderfully with Donna, who had taken it upon herself to appoint Castiel with a nickname: Hubby Boss.

Funnily enough, however, he found himself constantly avoiding occupations that required him to interact firsthand with the guests.

Part of it, he had to admit, was due to his worry of creating a situation. He knew that Dean (and if it was to be believed, anyone else on this ranch) wouldn’t stand for any disrespect against him, but Castiel still thought it would be best not to press his luck for now.

Castiel gathered that Dean must have had reservations about his decision, but he hadn’t commented on the matter with the exception of encouraging Castiel to work wherever he would feel comfortable, just as he had promised.

But Castiel was actually enjoying dabbling in something else for once. Straying away from his usual trade and exploring multiple areas of the ranch allowed Castiel to get to know the staff rapidly and acquire new interests as well.

He found himself loving the outdoorsy work. In spite of the fact that physical labor still took its toll on him, he was enjoying the fresh air.

The real, surrounded by trees, pure, and fully oxygenated fresh air.

He helped out nearly everywhere on the ranch—determined to learn new skills—but always ended up gravitating back to the greenhouse.

And the stables. Tasha and the twins were merry to see him every time he would show up. And this area of the ranch—anything that had to do with the horses—was where nostalgia hit Castiel the most deeply.

Except where Dean was concerned, of course.

After their first long week, Dean had made a point of taking Castiel for his first horseback ride since his childhood.

They hadn’t been able to venture too far, nor for too long, as Dean had to be called back to the main building quickly, but Castiel had immensely enjoyed their moment still. It had brought back memories, some of which he had thought had been long gone for good. Of Dean and him wandering in the field, with the wind running through their hair. Of them spraying themselves with water on a hot sticky day. Of them sitting on the same horse, and Henry walking beside them, holding the reins for them. Of them laughing and holding on to each other. And of them standing side by side in the old stables next to Henry’s old house on that infamous day.

It was in moments like these that Castiel struggled the most about their arrangement. These memories, which were often bittersweet, left Castiel wondering if they weren’t complicating the situation even more.

Dean and Castiel were still acclimating themselves to each other. They had pleasant dinners, but their evenings, the ones they shared, were quiet. The sleeping arrangement remained, and though it was relatively awkward, no issue had arisen from it.

Castiel was partially grateful that most of their day constituted of them working separately, because it allowed them to have things to share by dinnertime.

But the days were long and exhausting, and there wasn’t much more interaction than that. And this made Castiel worried about how their first trip together would turn up.

They had broached the topic of their first holiday on a few occasions during dinner. Unfortunately, these discussions never ended with a precise plan. They mostly just talked around it.

The whole concept was a bit bizarre. They wanted to respect Henry’s wishes, but at the same time, they didn’t want to over do it.

Every time Castiel had questioned Dean about potential destinations, by making suggestions or directly asking Dean if he had a place he would fancy, Dean, without completely shutting down his ideas, clearly conveyed resistance to the propositions. He insisted that he himself didn’t have any preferences on the account that he had never taken the time to reflect on that matter for years, because the ranch had kept him too busy.

Castiel knew that was true, and yet, he couldn’t help thinking there must be more to the story than this.

The ranch became incredibly busy around mid-October, so they decided to wait until the beginning of November to revisit the matter. Castiel had to admit that it brought him a bit of relief. Not that he was dreading it, but his time with Dean was still in a period of adjustment, and neither of them wanted to make things complicated.

Nevertheless, these discussions of leaving the ranch often left him with an aftertaste of homesickness, and Castiel caught himself daydreaming a few times about being back home on more than one occasion.

He had received a confirmation email from Naomi informing him that his request had been officially granted for his leave. Given the duration of his sabbatical, as well as the unusual circumstances, however, she had mentioned that he would need to check in for quick updates once in a while. Unclear if that was customary or not, Castiel was nonetheless grateful that brief check-ins would be the only thing he had to worry about, considering everything else.

He had also been comforted when he received an email from Hannah, nearly two weeks after his arrival. Although she was still evidently upset that he had left, and this so quickly, it seemed now that she was no longer cross with him as she had been before and supported Castiel in his decision.

She had even wished for him to have a good time, and to give Dean all her sympathies for his grandfather, hoping he was doing okay.

It was far from Balthazar’s initial cheerful reaction, but then again, the nature of their relationship was different, and Castiel was relieved of Hannah’s change of heart on the matter.

As for Balthazar, Castiel had sporadically received texts messages from his friend to inquire on developments and to let Castiel know that everything was under control at his apartment. He also, per Castiel’s request, updated him on the Lazarus Hotel, not that there was much to report on that subject, according to Balthazar.

Castiel indulged his questions, for the most part anyway, but had opted to not dwell on the subject concerning his sleeping arrangement with Dean.

Unfortunately, because Balthazar had been aware of Henry’s rules when Castiel had shown him his copy of the will, most of his inquisition lay mostly around that particular topic.

At the beginning of his first week on the ranch, Castiel had made of point of informing him that Dean had found a loophole, much to Balthazar’s disappointment.

But when that had gone out of the window after the incident, he had kept it to himself. He hadn’t wanted to worry his friend with the drama, especially since nothing else had happened afterwards, and he also knew exactly where this conversation would lead.

With Balthazar already implying that there was something between him and Dean, Castiel concluded that if he shared that new information, it would only encourage his friend to deepen his insinuations, which often made him feel uncomfortable.

That being said, Castiel had been tempted to question Balthazar on one subject: his dreams.

Curiously enough, because he didn’t look the type, Balthazar was well known at the hotel for his so-called skills in dream interpretations. Being a bartender, and a charming, cocky one at that, this helped him tremendously cozying up to the customers.

Of course, Castiel always suspected that most of it was nonsense and that Balthazar simply used it to flirt with the customers, particularly those who were easy on the eyes.

But Castiel had had the chance to listen his interpretations on many occasions, and he had to admit that they didn’t appear completely absurd either.

And now, at the ranch, Castiel hadn’t remembered dreaming so vividly in years. While these particular dreams didn’t occur on a nightly basis, they still happened often enough to render Castiel somewhat uneasy.

The first one hadn’t been extreme, but it had left him self-conscious for the next few days.

It had only been of him and Dean as children. They were lying on the grass, looking at the clouds and commenting on their shapes. But soon, Dean began to be incredibly specific in his descriptions. Even though the clouds remained of an abstract shape, Dean elaborated that one looked like the Lazarus Hotel. And another like Castiel’s family. And one of his relationship with Hannah.

Child Dean hadn’t said it in a judgmental tone, but rather as a matter of fact. And yet, Castiel couldn’t help but feel criticized.

“And that one is our marriage,” he had said, pointing at a round thick cloud. Castiel had turned to see Dean’s reaction, but his face had been expressionless. He was simply observing the cloud. No smile or frown. Just observing. And then Castiel had woken up.

The dreams that followed, on the other hand, had been of a much less _innocent _nature. In particular the one that consisted of them both having dinner shirtless. Every time Castiel had tried to put something on, his shirt would instantly disappear and Dean appeared unfazed by the inconvenience.

At the very least, nothing too embarrassing had occurred yet, and every time he had woken up, Dean was either sound asleep next to him, or already up and about.

And so, Castiel had decided to also keep that detail to himself and not ask Balthazar’s opinion.

For now.

At the end of October, Castiel was confronted with a small—yet annoying—task. He learned that the ranch hosted a popular annual Halloween Party in support of the local town businesses. While nearly everyone on the ranch was scheduled to work that night, as it was an important event, the party was organized as a casual event where the staff could also participate at the festivities.

One thing was mandatory of course: everyone had to wear a Halloween costume, and as Castiel soon discovered, for some reason, everyone had to keep their costume a secret.

As the frenzy around him increased each day, Castiel rapidly understood that people not only looked forward to the night in question, but that finding the _right _costume was also crucial.

Having been out of the habit of picking a Halloween costume for so long, namely because he was always working, Castiel felt somewhat at a loss, especially considering how deadly serious some of his coworkers had been regarding the issue.

He hoped that people wouldn’t judge his last minute costume too harshly. Castiel had questioned Dean about it during dinner a few days before Halloween.

“You’ll be fine,” said Dean nonchalantly. “Don’t sweat it.”

“Everybody is making a big deal about it, Dean. You’re sure?”

“Just show up…not wearing your usual clothes and unlike you. That’s it.”

Castiel thought for a moment. “What are you dressing up as?”

Dean smirked and shook his head. “Na-uh. Not telling.”

“Why is that, exactly? Why is everybody dead set on that?”

“I—I don’t know. It started way before me. All I remember is that you couldn’t tell anyone. It has to be a surprise. I suppose it appeals to those who have a competitive side. Some go out of their way to be original. But then there’s also the funny part of trying to figure out those who are down right unrecognizable. That’s usually what I find fun in it.”

“So I should have an elaborate costume?”

“No, you don’t have to,” he repeated. “Mine isn’t. I tell you, it doesn’t matter. Simplicity works too. As long as you’re wearing one, no matter what, it’s cool.”

Castiel tried to believe Dean, but given the intense conversations he had overheard in the past few days, he wasn’t overly convinced of that fact.

On the day of Halloween, because of the festivities, Dean and Castiel wouldn’t be able to have their usual dinner, so they shared their lunch break in Dean’s office before going back to help the rest of the staff with the final preparations. The excitement for the night had been visible on everyone’s face and joyful attitude throughout the morning, and with Dean’s mischievous grin every time he would mention the event, Castiel was succumbing to the eagerness rapidly.

Finally, everything had been set up in the main hall, and past six, when the guests were about to arrive, Donna shooed Castiel home to get ready. Dean, knowing he, unlike Castiel, wouldn’t have time to spare because he was the official host of the evening, had prepared accordingly to change at the main building, as he always did for this event.

Thus, Castiel left for the house, anxious to be back and meet Dean, as well as Sam and Jessica, who would join them for the evening.

Once home, Castiel took a quick shower to feel better, and dressed himself in the costume he had purchased a few days ago, when he had a tagged along with Kevin and Ash for a quick errand they had in town.

His options had been limited, to say the least.

After browsing through the rather generic choices, he had opted for blue hospital scrubs, paired up with some “mad scientist” outfit. While this wasn’t the most original costume, he told himself that at least he would be comfortable.

His footwear had been an issue, however, and in a moment of random inspiration, Castiel decided he should put on the not-yet-worn cowboy boots that Dean had given him on his arrival. With the boots being so beautiful, Castiel had not wished to ruin them, despite the fact that Dean kept reminding him, while laughing, that they were_boots_. But Castiel had insisted on waiting for a special occasion to wear them properly, and he decided that now was the time.

Even though wearing a lab coat and scrubs with cowboy boots seemed completely nuts to him.

On his arrival in the main hall, Castiel was impressed by the large and enthusiastic gathering, and immediately understood why everyone had been making a big deal about it.

The food smelled amazing and the hall was decorated to the perfection. Large pumpkins and candlesticks were on every table. Fake bats were hanging from the ceiling. The room was unrecognizable and the lighting and music gave it a spooky, yet fun ambiance.

He could definitely see why everyone enjoyed the event. They had fun games. Tons of candy and sweets, made locally. Everything was a collaboration.

And the best part was, of course, the costumes. Many were wearing elegant period attire, of which some must have cost a pretty penny. Some had stunning make-up, rendering it impossible for Castiel to discern if he knew them or not. And while many other costumes weren’t as extravagant, they were still stunning to look at.

Castiel nearly felt ridiculous with his last minute choice, but thankfully, no one seemed to judge him.

In fact, quite inexplicably, everyone gave him the thumbs up as he made his way through the crowd.

Confused as to why, he nodded shyly at them and was simply content that people were having a good time.

He scanned the room a few times, but eventually, with the help of Alicia, who quickly pointed him towards the end of the room, he spotted Dean near the bar.

Dean seemed busy speaking with Aaron and Tasha, while Donna was talking with animation to Sam and Jessica right next to them.

Jessica was wearing a gorgeous silver flapper dress reminiscent of 1920s, Sam was dressed as a knight and Donna was wearing a sheriff uniform.

And Dean was wearing white hospital scrubs, but over what looked like a denim shirt.

Tasha and Aaron nodded at Dean’s instructions and left promptly, leaving him to return to his drink next to Sam.

And that was when Sam spotted Castiel, who had almost rejoined them.

“Holy shit,” yelled Sam, almost spitting half his beer and laughing, which made Castiel stop abruptly.

Everyone turned to Sam curiously as he continued laughing.

“Sam? What’s wrong?”

“What happened?”

“Why are you lau—Oh my God!” Donna suddenly noticed Castiel and she gaped at him with her mouth open.

Castiel grew intensively nervous in that moment, wondering why his attire was so hilarious. After Jessica and Dean had followed Donna’s gaze, they both stared at him as well. Jessica remained quiet, but like Donna, her mouth fell open.

Dean stepped away from the bar and walked slowly towards Castiel fully taking in his costume.

Castiel, confused at their reaction, asked, “Did I do something wrong?”

“You watch the show too?”

Castiel frowned. “What show?”

“_Dr. Sexy, MD_.”

“Um, what?” said Castiel, more confused than ever.

Dean let out a small laugh. “Wait, you—you don’t watch it?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. What show?”

“Shut up, no way!” yelled Sam, who had recovered from his fit of laughter. “You guys cheated. You planned this.”

“I assure you we didn’t,” Castiel told him, “as I still don’t understand what is being discussed.”

“Holy shit, that’s even better,” said Jessica.

“And here I was hoping he’d show up as an astronaut,” said Sam, which granted him a frown from Dean.

“Will you shut up about that?” he whined at his brother.

“Never.”

Castiel turned his eyes to Dean, pleading for help. “Dean, what’s happening? Did I do something wrong.”

“Um, no,” he said, chuckling, turning back at Castiel. “Pretty fucking far from it, Cas. This is so cool.”

“It’s just scrubs and a lab coat,” he said, somewhat baffled.

“And cowboy boots.”

“Well, yes. I hadn’t had time to wear them yet.”

“Oh. My. God! I hadn’t even seen the boots yet,” yelled Donna.

“Cas, where did you get the boots?” asked Sam, raising his hand. “Because these are a really nice pair.”

Mildly hesitating, he glanced quickly at Dean for support, but he was apparently too busy still examining Castiel’s outfit to notice, so Castiel answered Sam’s question. “Dean gave them to me as a present when I first arrived.”

Jessica lifted her hands in the air, while Sam’s jaw dropped. “That’s it. I’m dead,” he said, turning towards the bar, still laughing. “I died. I need another round because this is too much.”

The small group couldn’t stop laughing, so much so that Dean had to pull Castiel away for a moment.

“I don’t understand,” said Castiel, again. “What’s happening?”

“It’s the show, Cas. You don’t know the show _Dr. Sexy_?”

“No. Is this porn?”

“No. What? No, but—no, it’s not porn. It’s a—um, I call it a guilty pleasure.”

“Okay. But what about it?”

“Well, you kinda dressed like him. The main character, I mean. You’re dressed as a doctor and you’re wearing cowboy boots. Which is literally his signature thing.”

“It is?”

“Yeah,” said Dean nodding. “You really don’t know it?”

“No. Is this your favourite show?”

“Um, I—fine, yes. I’m obsessed. But you mean to tell me you pulled this outfit out of nowhere?”

“I had to improvised quickly.”

“Well, good job because this is awesome,” said Dean, beaming at him.

Castiel nodded, shyly. “What about your costume? Are you just a patient or doctor?”

Dean let out a laugh, looking down, suddenly remembering what he was wearing. He nudged Castiel forward to explore the rest of the room together, and said, “Let’s just say, I’m really glad you’re not Nurse Ratchett.”

Walking through the energetic crowd, Dean introduced Castiel to everyone they met. With the exception of a few board members, who thankfully remained civil, most of everyone present were town citizens. Just like on the ranch, many curious people appeared to be thrilled to meet Castiel and had many questions for him, especially surrounding his life in the big city.

The music and ambiance were engaging, and even if this was technically a work gathering, it hadn’t felt so for one minute, and Castiel had to remind himself of that fact.

After some time, Rufus and Garth requested Dean’s attention, so Castiel decided to find Donna, Sam and Jessica. Still where he had last seen them, Castiel saw Sam talking to Bobby at the bar, while Jessica was seated at a table with Donna near them, laughing and eating desert.

As Castiel reached the table, Donna stood up. “Good timing, Hubby Boss. You can take my seat and keep Jess company. I need to make a quick round.”

Castiel took her seat and Jessica pushed a plate of cake his way. 

“So how is everything, Dr. Sexy?”

“Fine, thank you. And you?”

“I’m eating cake. I don’t think I can complain.”

“You look very beautiful by the way. Who are you dressed as?”

“Thank you,” she said. “So nice of you to say. I suppose I could be anyone from that era, but I’m going to go with Zelda Fitzgerald.”

“I like it.” Castiel took a bite from the cake. After a moment of silence, where they both observed the room and everyone roaming around them cheering and dancing, Jessica turned to Castiel.

“So, Cas. How are you, really? At the ranch, I mean.”

“I’m fine. I’m enjoying my time. The work is hard and very different than what I’m used to, but I love it.”

“I don’t want to sound lazy, but you’re a saint to work. I can’t honestly say I would have done the same.”

“I was tempted to, but I know myself. It would probably be a bad idea. Mind you, I might change my mind once winter arrives.”

“And what about Dean? Is everything okay between you two?”

“We’re fine,” said Castiel. And though he had meant it, he couldn’t help but think that mustn’t have sounded too convincing. He opened his mouth but shut it quickly, not knowing what else to say.

“I’m sorry,” said Jessica. “I’m nosy. I just wanted to make sure you guys are okay. This situation is…uncommon, but you look like you get along. So I’m really glad.”

“We are. It’s just…like you said.”

She nodded with understanding.

“Are you excited for your first holiday? Where are you going?”

“We haven’t decided yet. I am, in a way, looking forward to it. Taking a break is always a good thing, and I confess that I haven’t had the chance to do so myself in years, but—”

“But?”

“I—I don’t know. I’m—we get along, no problem, like you said. But—” Castiel paused again.

He usually wasn’t one to overly share, but this was a strange situation, and Castiel thought that perhaps speaking to someone about it, who wasn’t living on the ranch—and who wasn’t utterly biased like Balthazar was—wouldn’t be the worst idea. And as far as he could tell, Jessica appeared to be a genuine and kind person. So he continued.

“But there is awkwardness. And this is how we are at the ranch, where we should be able to be most comfortable. What is it going to be like when we’re in a different place alone? I’m worried it will render things even more weird.”

Jessica thought for a moment, and then said, “Perhaps that’s what could help you. You were friends before. Technically, I don’t think you ever stopped being friends, either. Maybe time alone and away from work will help the situation. Work is primarily why you’re here. That’s what you and Dean agreed on. And being at the ranch, ironically, must serve as a constant reminder of that fact. But that’s not all there is here. Maybe you need help to remember that.”

Castiel considered Jessica’s view. “That’s…I didn’t think of it that way.”

She leaned in a little closer. “He’s happy you’re here, Cas. It might not be obvious to you, but I’m telling you, it shows. Whatever the reason, he’s happy you’re here.” And after a short pause, she added, “Just—one last thing? Don’t let Dean stall on the vacation. He will procrastinate on that one. He—just—without pushing him, I think if you clearly state you want to go and that you are looking forward to it, he’ll make the effort. Just talk to him. And I know for him it’s diff—” Jessica had started saying, but whatever the rest of her sentence was, Castiel never heard it, because that was when Sam and Dean arrived at the table, carrying a panoply of plates filled with pastries to share with everyone.

The four of them (and Donna) spent the rest of the evening laughing and eating sweets. Dean had to absent himself from the table once or twice, but only for a very short period of time.

Later in the evening, Jessica and Donna managed to convince everyone at the table to go on the dance floor. Resistance had occurred, especially from the Winchester brothers, but soon enough, everyone reached the dance floor.

Dancing had never exactly been a skillset Castiel had thought himself to possess. He always felt odd and silly doing it, and avoided it as much as he could.

That was until he saw Dean dance.

Dean snapped his fingers, while faintly shifting on his feet and nodding to the beat.

“Are you laughing at me?” said Dean, trying to hold down his grin himself.

“You dance like an old man.”

“Makes sense, Granddad taught me.” They both burst laughing. “Not that I would dare insult you, but you aren’t exactly a professional dancer either.”

“Not by any means, no. Still not as hilarious as you though.”

And then the music changed to a lower beat and they both stopped dancing. Everyone around them coupled up and immediately started to sway.

Dean and Castiel immediately chuckled. But they stepped closer, and most likely due to the influence of a few beers, Castiel put his hands on Dean’s waist and Dean rested his on Castiel’s shoulders.

“I mean, we _are _married, technically,” said Dean.

“That’s true.” Both grinning at each other, Castiel then took hold of one of Dean’s hands, pulling him even closer, practically cheek to cheek.

After a little while, Castiel and Dean weren’t laughing anymore. They were just dancing. And even though there was nothing particularly romantic about it, so Castiel kept telling himself, he had to admit that this wasn’t what it had been a moment ago.

Their bodies weren’t pressed against each other, but just about. He could feel Dean’s hand on his shoulder sliding closer to his neck, but no further. His warm breath against his neck.

Castiel leaned his head back slightly and turned his eyes on Dean. All he saw were green eyes and freckles, which made him smile.

Dean swallowed.

Whatever this was though, it wasn’t a joke anymore. And more importantly, it was both pleasant and awkward.

“I’m sorry I laughed at you. Or with you. I take it back,” said Castiel. “You’re not a bad dancer.”

“Pretty sure you’re making it seem like it. As you’re not a bad dancer no matter what.”

Wanting to get rid of the faint tension, Castiel pressed himself on asking, “Did you learn slow dancing from Henry too?”

Dean let out a short laugh and shook his head. “Mom was the culprit for that one.”

Castiel nodded, smiling. “So, if you weren’t married right now,” to which Dean lifted an eyebrow, “who would have been the lucky one to dance with you tonight?”

Dean snorted. “No one.”

“Dean, come on.”

“No one,” he repeated.

“What? Why’s that?” Castiel studied him for a moment.

“I don’t really dance. As you now know from firsthand experience.”

“You mean—ever?”

“All this ain’t really my thing. And by this, I really mean dancing. We are still talking about dancing, right?”

“I—I was, but now I might have other questions.”

Dean started laughing. “If I wasn’t married, I would pretty much avoid the dance floor. I would be doing what I always do. I’d be in the background, working and making sure everything was on point.”

“But you still did that tonight.”

“I would have done it much more than that. I probably wouldn’t even have taken the time to sit down and snack on something.”

“But everything is fine. Unless there was a major crisis I was oblivious about, this thing is pretty much under control.”

“Yeah. I know. But…that’s still how I would have done it.”

“And everyone would have missed those moves. That’s simply tragic.”

“What about you?” he asked, smirking. “Say whatever you want, but I’ve seen quite the amount of people here tonight checking you out in that outfit.”

“Beginner’s luck, I suppose.”

“Hmm. Must be.”

And they continued dancing slowly. Castiel was grateful the lights were dim otherwise he was convinced it wouldn’t have taken him very long to notice people staring at them.

And he was already feeling self-conscious as it was.

Later that night, back home and in bed, Castiel, after reading the same paragraph five times in a row, put his book away and called it a night.

Tired from his long day, he sank into his pillow. Dean, who was looking at his tablet, said, “You’re done already?”

“Oh yeah. I’m exhausted. You can leave the light on. It’s fine.”<strike></strike>

But Dean put his tablet away and turned off the lamp on his nightstand.

“Tired too.”

They lay there quietly, both trying to go to sleep, but Castiel had a sudden regain of energy. And although he was convinced that Dean must have been weary from his day too, he could also tell that sleep wasn’t as much around the corner as he thought.

He could practically hear Dean thinking next to him.

“So, um, you’ve really never watched _Dr. Sexy_?” Dean finally asked him.

Castiel snorted. “No. I’m beginning to understand that it is greatly missing from my culture.”

“Huh. Yes. Yes, it absolutely is,” said Dean with enthusiasm. “We should have a mini marathon one night. I have all the seasons.”

“Really? That would be nice. You won’t mind re-watching it?”

“I’ve re-watched it so many times already, trust me, I won’t mind.” There was a short pause, and then he said joyfully, “I’m really looking forward to this now.”

“Me too.”

“You know,” said Dean, turning on his side to look at Castiel properly, “this made me realize something.”

Castiel imitated him. “This being?”

“The _Dr. Sexy _thing. It made me realize that we—that we don’t really know much about each other. Probably because we don’t really talk. I know we talk every day during our meals, which I like, by the way,” he urged himself to add, “but that’s mostly just updates on our day. What if—what if we did the same about the last decade?”

“You mean, we should change the topic of our conversation during our meals?”

“We could. Yes. Or we could also just do that another time instead too. Like right now, for example. Before going to bed. Just tell each other something about ourselves that the other one doesn’t know. Not about our day, but about ourselves. Maybe that way it will help making it…”

“Less awkward?”

“Yes, maybe.” Dean turned himself on his back again. Looking at the ceiling, he said, “I don’t know. What do you think? Good idea or did I just make it even weirder?”

“No,” said Castiel, smiling. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” Dean twisted on his side again, his elbow lifting him up a bit.

“Yes. What does it need to be about? Do we ask questions?”

“Anything, I guess. Anything you feel like sharing.”

“I—I have no idea. I suppose it feels too vague now.”

“Okay, I guess asking a question would help, then. I’ll—I’ll start. Since we’re on the subject, what TV show do you like?

“I don’t really watch any TV shows anymore. I haven’t in a long time. Too much work for the dedication it takes, I suppose. I like watching classic movies though from time to time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. There’s this old theatre near my apartment. The popcorn is delicious and they often show classics. I like going to those.”

“Cool. Maybe we could watch those too, here.”

Castiel nodded. “That would be great.”

There was a short pause and Dean said, “Your turn to ask a question.”

Castiel briefly turned his gaze away from Dean, pondering on what to ask. And then he thought of something. “Why was Sam hoping I’d be dressed as an astronaut?”

Dean let his head fall on his pillow, groaning. “No, not that.”

“Why?” asked Castiel, amused.

“Because it’s—please something else?”

“Is it embarrassing?”

“No. Maybe.”

“Then I really want to know,” he said.

Dean stared at him, pursing his lips. And then rolled his eyes in defeat. “Fine. It was Halloween and I was having a bad day. Like a really bad day, and I love Halloween so I was pissed about that.”

“When was that?”

“Years ago. Sam had just moved back home after law school. Anyway, I was in town with him grabbing a bite for lunch and this kid, who was dressed as an astronaut, came out of nowhere hassling us for candy in the parking lot. I told him we didn’t have any. He insisted. And then I—I may have been kind of a jerk and told him something mean—I had a bad day, I told you. And um, basically he didn’t take it well, because when Sam and I came back out of the restaurant, the car had been trashed with toilet paper and milk.”

“You saw him do it?”

“No. It could have been anyone, as it was Halloween. But, um, pretty sure it was him. And Sam always found it absolutely hilarious because when I saw the state of the car, I just turned around and yelled helplessly ‘ASTRONAUT!’ as I didn’t know the kid’s name.”

Castiel burst laughing.

“So now you know.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

“Was it crucial knowledge?”

“I think it was, yes.”

Dean shook his head, but was smiling.

That was when Castiel was inspired by an idea. “I like this. We should make it a rule.”

Dean frowned. “Against vandalism? No kidding.”

“No, not that,” said Castiel, sitting up. “This. Us sharing anecdotes. Asking questions. We should make it another rule.”

“Um, you don’t think we have enough of those? And some of them are already kind of out there as it is.”

Castiel shook his head. “This one will be different. _We _made it. It’s not being imposed on us. We decided. It’s ours.”

Dean observed him attentively. “All right. We should give it a name, then. To differentiate it from the others.”

“Other than just ‘our rule’?”

“Yes.” Dean thought for a moment. “What about _The Pillow Talk Rule_? I mean, it’s sort of what it is. Though, I always thought pillow talk had a negative connotation attached to it. Like gossiping spouses or something.”

“Yes, that’s because it can be referring to people trading or gaining information, because their partner, be it their co-workers, boss, informants, are babbling after having sex,” said Castiel, chuckling. “Like spies.”

“What?” exclaimed Dean. “No, it doesn’t. I thought it was just information in bed. Not national secrets and not necessarily after they’ve had sex.”

“I’m fairly certain it does,” said Castiel, amused.

Trying not to laugh, Dean said, “All right, then. So there’s no confusion, not _The Pillow Talk Rule_. What do you suggest?”

Castiel stared in front of him blankly. “I have no idea. I’m not really good at giving names. If it was up to me, I’d say _The Night Talk_. Or _The Evening Rule_. But I don’t know.”

The moon shined over half of Castiel’s face.

And Dean smiled.

“I got a super tacky one. _The Moonlight Rule_,” said Dean, waving his hand at every word.

Castiel beamed at him.

“_The Moonlight Rule_,” he repeated in a low voice. “I think we have a winner.”

And from that night on, Castiel and Dean conversed every night about something personal before going to sleep, always prompted by questions. They sometimes shared anecdotes of their past. Teenage years. Early Twenties. Last few years. Of their work and studies. And sometimes, they simply shared random opinions. They mostly stayed away from topics regarding their families or past relationships, however. Until one of them would bring it up, it meant that they weren’t ready to dwell on that subject yet. But they enjoyed learning about one another and catching up on the years they’ve missed.

This quickly improved the dynamic between them, and one thing was for certain, it instantly became Castiel’s favourite moment of the day.


	6. The Grigori

Following Jessica’s advice, Castiel brought up the topic of their holiday the very next night after the Halloween party with a firm intention to finally settle on a destination and date.

“Did you get the chance to think of somewhere you’d like to go for our trip like you said you would?” asked Castiel. Dean immediately stopped chewing, as if he had been caught with his hand in a cookie jar. “I was just thinking,” continued Castiel, “since the holidays are coming up, which I’m guessing will keep us busy at the ranch, if we don’t make a choice soon, we will still be talking about it by the end of the sixth month.”

“I know,” said Dean, nodding, but with his eyes fixed on his bowl of creamy fettuccini Alfredo.

After taking a bite of his garlic toast, Castiel added, “Maybe we are overthinking it. We should take the first trip easy and just pick a place that looks nice. Nothing too extravagant. We don’t need to plan a heavy schedule either. We can simply relax there. Honestly, I’d be happy with anything, Dean.”

Dean turned his focus to Castiel and studied him for a moment. He then put down his fork and left the table for the kitchen, where he opened a drawer and retrieved papers. Once back at the table, he handed Castiel a few pamphlets.

He cleared his throat. “I’m not dead set on those. They are only suggestions. But I—I thought about it.”

Intrigued, Castiel started sampling the pamphlets. He didn’t care much about the destination. He was simply thrilled to see that Dean had indeed pondered on the matter.

He quickly noticed, however, that every single one of Dean’s suggestion was situated within the state of Montana. The most obvious explanation that came to Castiel’s mind was that Dean had done his research in a rush and without too much thought.

But given Dean’s methodical nature, Castiel had difficulty believing that was the case. <strike></strike>

Without commenting directly on that detail, Castiel asked Dean what he liked the most about these options, and why he had picked them, hoping to confirm his hypothesis. Dean immediately blurted out an incredible amount of information concerning each and every place. From activities they could do, to how delicious the food was supposed to be. His main focus point, however, seemed to lie with the hotels. Their quality of service. How spacious the rooms were. What the hotel offered. Every destination was paired up with a specific hotel, and Castiel rapidly understood that Dean hadn’t chosen a town to visit and then looked up the most appealing place to stay. It had been the other way around. He had chosen the hotels first, and then researched the towns.

Given their line of work, Castiel wasn’t sure if Dean had done so for his benefit or his own—or both—but nevertheless, Dean’s enthusiasm, which was something Castiel hadn’t previously witnessed on that topic, proved that he had greatly reflected on his selection.

Unfortunately, this also implied that Dean had purposely intended to stay in Montana and Castiel couldn’t understand why. Castiel reasoned that perhaps Dean hadn’t wanted to go overboard for their trip, just as he himself had suggested earlier.

Nevertheless, Castiel was still impressed with his selection and after hearing Dean’s selling speech about them, he would gladly go to any of these places. They all seemed interesting and beautiful. And he certainly had never been before, so he was eager to go.

“Which one do you prefer the most?” he asked Dean.

“I like all of them. That’s why you should choose. But only if you like one of these,” he added defensively. “We can still keep looking if that’s not the case.”

Castiel shook his head. “I like every single one as well, Dean. In fact, looking at all this, I’m really eager to our trip now.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course. We just need to pick one. And when. What do you think? The sooner the better?”

Dean took a deep breath and nodded in agreement.

Because Dean had built his choices on the hotels that most appealed to him, Castiel suggested that they should begin with that.

They decided to pick one at random and verify if they would be able to make a reservation as early as the following weekend.

The first two they checked online were unfortunately completely booked.

But the third one was not. And Castiel was very glad of that fact because that had been the one Dean had claimed raved reviews about the food.

Thus, after what felt like a long week, Castiel and Dean were ready to set off on their holiday in early Friday afternoon.

Castiel, fixing his trench coat, was standing on the porch next to his suitcase, waiting for Dean. He expected him to arrive in one of the trucks from the ranch he usually used when he needed to go into town.

But Dean had a surprise for him.

An old, yet shiny and stunning black car pulled into the driveway, with a grinning Dean in the driver seat.

Castiel gasped at the sight of the car and rushed to Dean’s side the moment he stepped out of the car. “So, what do you think?”

“It’s gorgeous, Dean. But wait, I remember this car.”

Dean nodded. “It was my Dad’s. ’67 Chevy Impala.”

“_Baby_.”

Dean, taken aback, turned to Castiel in awe.

“The car,” specified Castiel. “You called her _Baby_.”

“Yeah. How do you—you remember that?”

“I told you, I remember the car from back when. And it still works?”

“Heck, yeah. It’s borderline a crime, but I’ve been storing her for years. With proper check ups, I still make sure everything is all right with her of course. And I take her out once in a while, but I haven’t had a proper road trip since—in a really long time. What do you say?”

“Yes, Dean. That would be amazing.”

When they finished loading up the car, Bobby and Donna arrived to tell them goodbye, wishing them a good trip, and also to admire Baby.

Dean then went over an intense review of the ranch with Bobby and Donna, but after ten minutes of Dean constantly asking questions, Bobby let out a big sigh and told Castiel, “Enough. Get this idjit out of here, will ya?”

“But wait! I haven’t even finished yet,” said Dean as Castiel was tugging him towards the car. “I was going to ask about—”

“Dean, we got it covered no matter what.”

“We’ll call you if there’s a problem,” said Donna.

“Meaning we won’t,” said Bobby in exasperation.

Dean still protested, but soon gave up and sat in his car.

Donna waved at them and yelled, “Take care of him, Hubby Boss.”

Castiel smiled and waved at them as the Impala was passing by the olive and cherry trees.

Their destination was just a few hours away and they had planned a mid-way stop to stretch their legs. The trip started out agreeable. They were both in good humour, and though they didn’t speak much, it was peaceful, thought Castiel.

Castiel admired the breath taking scenery while they listened to old music cassette tapes that Dean had tucked away in a shoebox under the passenger seat.

The ranch was beautiful, no one could argue against that, but seeing the majestic Rocky Mountains unfold before them was an impressive view, to say the least.

Castiel had traveled a lot during his early childhood, particularly in this part of the state because of the ranch, but he hadn’t remembered the landscape being so beautiful.

Perhaps, he thought, it was because he had been too young to appreciate it properly.

Nevertheless, Castiel couldn’t believe how stunning it was.

Dean had been quiet as well, only humming to the music, and at first, Castiel simply thought he was taking in the scenery, just as he was.

He enjoyed listening to Dean humming to the songs.

Around an hour after they had left the ranch, however, Dean was no longer humming. And while he hadn’t expressed any clear discomfort, Castiel couldn’t help but glance at him a few times when he noticed him fidgeting in his seat.

His concerns increased when Dean seemed to be gripping the wheel a little too tightly than necessary.

Dean cleared his throat a few times. He rubbed his neck. He then turned off the radio entirely and swallowed hard, before twitching in his seat once more.

“Dean?” finally asked Castiel. “Are you—what’s wrong?”

“I’m—I’ll be okay.”

His breaking voice was absolutely not convincing. That was when Castiel noticed small tears were rolling down his face.

“What’s wrong?” he repeated, now incredibly worried.

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out of it. He then abruptly steered the car to the side of the road, and brought the Impala to a complete stop. Castiel had had to clutch onto his seat and the dash for additional safety. Breathing heavily, Dean briskly parked the car and frantically undid his seatbelt with shaking hands. Castiel had barely time to turn his head towards him, when Dean exited the car without a word, leaving the keys in the ignition and the door wide open.

“Dean? Dean, wait!” Castiel undid his seatbelt, turned off the engine, and went after him.

The road was completely empty. Just them and nature.

Even though Dean had gone a relative amount of distance away from the car already, Castiel could hear him panting.

Castiel pressed on towards him. He didn’t rush to him, however. He had a feeling that springing up on him might not be a good idea.

When he was close enough, Castiel called out for him again. “Dean?”

On the side of the road, Dan had come to a halt and was clutching on to his chest, gasping for air.

Trying his best to remain composed and not aggravate Dean’s state further, Castiel calmly said, “Dean, please. Tell me what’s wro—I—tell me what you need. Your pills?” Castiel slightly withdrew himself to return to the car, but Dean gripped his wrist, shaking his head. “Stay. Please.”

Castiel nodded and carefully stepped closer to face him. While Dean was still holding on to his wrist and gasping, Castiel gently rested his other hand on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean flinched for a brief second at Castiel’s touch, which almost made Castiel withdraw his hand, but Dean then immediately let his head drop on Castiel’s shoulder.

He was still shaking. And breathing unevenly. And holding on tightly to his wrist.

Letting Dean lean on him, Castiel lowered his hand to Dean’s back and shifted on his feet for a better balance to properly hold him. “It’s okay. Deep breaths. I’m here. You’re safe.” Castiel rubbed his hand gently on Dean’s back, making large circles, hoping it would sooth him. The moment he started, he heard Dean trying to slow down his breathing. “That’s it. Deep breaths. You’re okay.”

Castiel started taking in deep long breaths in tandem to help Dean. Dean’s grip eventually loosened, though he was still holding on to him, and his breathing relatively slowed down.

“Dean? Do you want to sit down a moment?”

Without answering, Dean carefully bent his knees to sit down.

Castiel sat next to him and they remained silent, side by side, in that fashion for quite some time.

Dean, finally coming back to himself, hurriedly passed his hands over his face to wipe away the tears as he tried to regain composure.

“Dean? What happened?”

“I’m—I’m okay. I’m fine.” He swallowed and glanced anxiously at the car. Knowing he mustn’t have been very convincing, he added, “I swear, I’m okay. Just—I just had a panic attack.” He lowered his eyes.

Castiel nodded. “Does that happen often?”

“Sometimes.”

“Can I ask about what?” There were many possibilities bursting through Castiel’s mind as to why Dean could have had such a reaction, but Castiel thought it best to not make any assumptions and simply ask Dean about it.

Dean was still staring at the ground. Castiel expected him to ignore his question or flat out refuse to share this information, but instead he told him, “Can I tell you later?”

“Of course. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’ll be okay,” he said, looking straight at him, which was a little more encouraging than before. “Um, Cas? Would it be—would you mind driving for the rest of the trip?”

Castiel flinched. He knew what his father’s car meant to Dean. The fact that he had preserved it so well all this time was still a statement of how much Dean cherished that car.

“You’re sure you’re feeling all right?”

Dean nodded.

Castiel bit his bottom lip. “We don’t have to go if you don’t feel well. We can just return to the ranch and postpone it, Dean.”

“No, no. I want to go. I need to do this. This,” he said, gesturing at himself, “is a pretty big indication that I need to do this. I’ll be okay, I swear.”

Castiel hesitated for a moment and said, “I think we should wait a little longer first.”

“I’m fine. I swear,” he repeated. “I’m already better. Beside, I don’t want to be late. We already lost like half an hour because of—” and the rest of his sentence died in his throat.

“Dean, there’s no hurry. We’ll get there when we’ll get there, that’s all. If that’s what we decide to do.”

Dean swallowed and shook his head stubbornly. “No, please. I really want to go. I’m—you’re right. I can wait a little longer, but please, drive the rest of the way?”

Castiel examined Dean’s state attentively as he pondered on his request. His state had considerably improved. He was no longer panting or trembling. He was speaking in full sentences. There was a faint, yet detectable waver in his voice still, however.

“Okay, I’ll drive,” said Castiel finally. “But we still need to wait until you feel better before leaving, no matter how long it takes. I told you, there is no hurry. And if, for whatever reason, you change your mind on our way there, or it starts happening again, you need to tell me. We just turn around or we take another break. I won’t pester you with questions, but you need to tell me. Even if it’s a small discomfort. Deal?”

Dean took a deep breath and nodded.

They remained seated on the side of the road, breathing in the fresh air and taking in the view. Castiel felt Dean’s gaze a few times, and fearing that Dean would worry that he was getting impatient with him, Castiel stretched out his legs and leaned on his arms to sit more comfortably.

After a while, Dean stood up. Castiel immediately noticed that he wasn’t staggering anymore. They slowly walked back to the car and switched seats.

Before starting the car though, Castiel assessed Dean once more. He wasn’t tense or fidgeting in his seat.

“Are you thirsty? Or hungry?”

“I—I don’t know.”

Castiel reached out for a bag he had left on the back seat. He first retrieved out of the bag one thermos. “This is chamomile tea, I made it before we left. Would be better freshly done, but still. I think that would be good for you.” He handed Dean the thermos. “And with that, if you want to nibble on something,” he continued, pulling out a small container, “I made these.”

Dean took hold of the container. He smiled after he opened it. “For me?” asked Dean, smirking.

“For us,” said Castiel, amused, as he grabbed one of the cookies and took a big bite. Dean chuckled. He grabbed one too and let the container rest on his thighs, while Castiel poured him a small cup of tea.

After Dean had emptied his cup, he closed the lid of the thermos and buckled his seatbelt.

Castiel imitated him. He looked at Dean one last time for confirmation. Helping himself to another cookie, Dean gave him a firm nod, and Castiel started the car’s engine and they drove off.

Their planned pit stop, which was a diner in the middle of nowhere, had been less than an hour away, and although Dean had remained calm and composed during that time, he had also stayed perfectly quiet and had not turned the radio back on.

Still, the tea, and especially the cookies, seemed to have helped Dean. He may have remained quiet, but he hadn’t shown any sign of discomfort like before.

Their break was short as its main purpose was to stretch their legs and grab something to eat.

Castiel had counted that their stop would offer Dean the opportunity to unwind, but Dean insisted they should get their meal to go so they could continue on the road.

“I told you there is no hurry,” Castiel reminded him.

“I know. But I want to keep going.”

Just as they stepped into the diner, Dean’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his jacket. He bit his lower lip, staring at the notifications.

“What is it? Something at the ranch?”

Dean shook his head.

“It’s Sam. He says—he’s just checking in with us.” He cleared his throat. “I told him when we were leaving and that I would call him on our break. But that was supposed to be a while back, because—and now he’s wondering why he hasn’t heard anything.” Dean swallowed.

“Why don’t you call him now?”

Dean frowned. “We’re about to get food.”

“I’ll get it. Tell me what you’d like, though I have a pretty good idea,” said Castiel, amused, “and you can call Sam.”

Dean returned to the car and Castiel placed the orders. While patiently waiting for their meals, Castiel watched Dean through the large front windows of the diner. Dean was leaning on the side of the car. With the phone to his ear and one arm crossed over his chest, he was staring at the ground.

By the time Castiel had reached his side again, carrying their order, Dean was smiling as he listened to Sam over the phone.

“Shut up. No, I’m not,” said Dean, grinning. There was a short pause. “It’s not—you’re an idiot,” he said, laughing. “And I have to go now. Cas is back with the food. So, I’ll talk to you later.” There was another break and Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, no. Bye, Sam. Yes, I’ll tell him. Bye.”

And he hung up, snorting.

“Everything okay?”

“Yup. Sam says hello.”

“Hello back, Sam.”

Castiel was relieved to see that, just as he had hoped, Dean’s phone call had indeed done him good. He wondered if he should suggest Dean to drive again, but Dean immediately went for the passenger seat, which confirmed to Castiel that, despite his obvious improvement, he was still not back at a hundred per cent.

But he was his usual self at least. His posture was less tensed, he was smiling and the moment Castiel started the car, Dean put the radio back on, and was happily humming along it.

They finally stood with their suitcases in the lobby of their hotel, The Grigori, at the end of the afternoon.

The first thing that came to Castiel’s mind, taking in the décor as he followed Dean to the front desk, was that the pamphlet and pictures he had seen online hadn’t done it justice. The high ceiling with a wall of windows at the entrance, the intricate chandeliers above them, and the large grey stones behind the front desk gave the place elegance and an imposing vibe. But the dark, rich wood floor softened the place, adding a touch of the region and comfort.

When they reached the desk, Dean took off his hat and smiled at the receptionist.

“Hello, welcome to The Grigori,” she said. “How may I help you?”

“Hi. We have a reservation under my name, Dean Winchester?” said Dean, reaching for his credit card, and identification, after he pulled out his wallet.

The girl at the desk smiled and typed quickly on her keyboard. She then picked up his identification, and her eyes bounced back in forth between the card and Dean. When she handed him back his card, it was only then that her gaze fell on Castiel, who had just been waiting next to him.

Smiling warmly, she turned back to Dean and continued with the check-in registration.

When everything was in order, she informed them of their room number, of a few events that were occurring over the weekend, as well as most frequented spots for visitors—especially those who were newly married.

She then gave them her biggest smile when she slid their cards on the counter.

Dean swallowed and grabbed the cards, but Castiel held down a grin at her enthusiasm.

The room was beautiful. The small, yet cozy balcony gave view to the pool and deck (which was closed this time of year), and of course, the magnificent mountains.

The large bed harbored a grey cover and pillows against an accentuated dark blue wall. Two charcoal leather armchairs and a delicate-looking table were next to the small electric fireplace. The shower was twice as big as the one they had at home, and Castiel immediately wanted to try out the luxurious tub the moment he laid his eyes on it.

Content with their room, they started unpacking the essentials.

But this turned out to be a short task, and after settling in, they momentarily stood in the room wondering what to do then.

“I feel like that’s all we’ve done so far, but do you want to go eat something?” asked Castiel, amused.

“I’d be good for food. But only if you want to.”

“I could eat. And I know you certainly can.”

Although it hadn’t been mentioned to them, they judged that they should probably wear something else than jeans and flannel shirts for dinner given the overall touch of elegance of the restaurant Dean had in mind.

Castiel, who had planned accordingly, quickly went to the bathroom and changed into one of his suits. Accustomed to wearing this type of attire because of work, which he hadn’t had much chance to do since he had arrived in Montana, brought him a form of instant comfort the moment he put it on.

Dean, on the other hand, was another story. He had brought a suit as well, but he didn’t seem convinced that it was respectable enough.

Which confused Castiel immensely as he thought he looked quite dashing in his suit.

Castiel had assured him so and added that a change of clothes was probably not necessitated in the first place.

But Dean didn’t sound convinced.

“I could lend you one of mine if you want? It would fit you. But I tell you, there is absolutely nothing wrong with yours.”

Dean made a face.

“Or we can just go eat somewhere else, too,” suggested Castiel as an alternative. “I really don’t mind and I’m sure there are plenty of other places to eat where you’d feel more comfortable if that’s the issue.”

But Dean shook his head. “I’m starving and I was actually really looking forward to the food here. That was one of the reasons I picked this place.”

Castiel laughed. “Okay, then.”

Dean looked at his attire and then at Castiel’s. “I don’t know, Cas, I feel underdressed next to you.”

Castiel frowned. “What? No. You’re not.”

Dean bit his bottom lip, still hesitating.

“Dean, I promise you’re okay.”

The Tulpa, one of the restaurants of the hotel, had a vaulted ceiling, which Castiel thought, paired up with the warm yellow and brown stones, made the room reminiscent of a wine cellar.

They were seated at a small round table in the center of the room, and their waiter had been extremely polite and kind to them.

Dean, having done his research, knew exactly what he wanted to order, and made Castiel chuckle when he told the waiter with great gusto. Castiel ordered the chef’s specialty, without asking what it was.

“Someone likes to live dangerously,” said Dean, envious.

Castiel shrugged. “I just feel like it.”

Once the waiter was gone, however, weirdness rapidly crept about. Sharing a meal wasn’t a new concept for them at this point.

But sharing a meal in public—in a nice restaurant of a hotel where they shared a room, and had dressed for the occasion, no less—was evidently not the same.

A fact that both of them were aware, but neither of them were willing to voice it.

Wishing to eliminate the heavy awkwardness, Castiel asked Dean what he had in mind for the next day.

“I’m good with whatever you want.”

While he appreciated the sentiment, Castiel squinted at him, as this hadn’t been his question.

“But what would _you _like to do?” asked Castiel. “What do you usually do when you travel?”

“I don’t really travel, remember? That’s why picking a place was somewhat difficult.”

Castiel thought for a moment. “I know you said you rarely go on vacation. But surely you must still travel once in a while? For work, at the very least, no?”

Dean shook his head. “With the internet, it’s extremely rare nowadays. I used to more often in the past, but that was a long time ago. And it was al—always about business with no time to do anything else.”

Castiel took in his last comment. In light of what had happened in the afternoon, questions were piling up in his mind. As if Dean had guessed what he was thinking of, he quickly asked him, “What about you? Do you travel a lot?”

“On occasion. I took a few trips here and there in the last few years, but nothing too extravagant. I was mostly just tagging along with friends for a night or two. Never heavy planning. Or my idea. I used to in my childhood, but as you know, that particular leisure stopped abruptly. By the time I was old enough to do so by myself, the situation hadn’t improved. Although, back then, I still got the chance to travel a few times to visit some of my siblings. So, I suppose that’s not nothing.”

Dean frowned. “Really? Do you still visit them? You never talk much about them.”

“That’s because there’s not much to say about them,” he said, after taking a sip of his drink. “I haven’t seen them in years. Schedules and locations are the main reasons, but honestly, it’s not like we make much of an effort either. I’m not sure we want to. The last one I’ve seen was….Michael, I think. And that was…I don’t know, five years ago? Six? Maybe eight. I’m not sure. It has been a while. We mostly keep in touch via email. And even then.”

“You haven’t seen your siblings in over five years?”

“We were never really close. We had our moments, but…Michael, last time I heard, was in Japan. That was random news I received last summer, I think. I know Anna is somewhere in France. She’s married and lives with some Englishman who…I have no idea. She’s very vague with the details. No one has any idea where Gadreel is. He tends to move around a lot. He’s not…Gadreel has had issues. But the fact that we don’t hear too much from him is oddly comforting. It’s when the news come rolling in that it is cause for concern. And Lucifer, well, we all know where Lucifer is. And he’s going to stay there for a quite long while. Twenty to life, depending on good behavior or overcrowding issue, I suppose.”

Dean let out a sigh. “I get for Lucifer—and Gadreel, even—given…you know, but Michael and Anna? They don’t check on you?”

Castiel nonchalantly shook his head. “That’s just the way we are. That’s the way I always remembered it.”

Dean leaned back in his seat, looking grim. “I can’t…I can’t imagine not knowing where Sam would be. Mind you, we live in the same town and I’m having separation issues. That’s probably not healthy, either.”

Castiel snorted. “Trust me, yours is better. And your situation was different. My family was chaotic from the get go.”

“That’s not how I remember your family at all. Back in those days. Before—that must be because of—of what happened. No?”

Castiel lowered his eyes and fixed his tie.

“We were like this. Perhaps not that extent, but…What happened to me—to my family—what happened after, I think it serves as evidence that problems and issues were already there. Your family suffered a lot of tragedies, too, Dean, and compared to mine, when confronted by it, yours seemed to have gotten closer, not divided. I know it’s not clear science and it doesn’t mean it’s the same for everyone, but as for my family, I don’t think tragedies and bad luck are what broke it. It just emphasized how it really was all along.”

Dean let out a deep sigh. “I feel like I have to apologize.”

Castiel smiled shyly. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, well, this still sucks. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry it turned out this way for you. For all of you.”

Dean bit on his bottom lip. Observing him, Castiel thought he looked like he was weighing on something.

But just as Dean opened his mouth to speak, the waiter arrived with their food, which brought the conversation to much lighter and joyful topics.

Dean’s face lit up the moment his plate was dropped in front of him. He had ordered the burger with fries, of course. But the burger had been stuffed with cheese, topped with bok choy, caramelized onions and honey. The slim fries were served with a hollandaise dipping sauce. The best one Dean had ever tasted, according to him.

As for Castiel’s surprise dish, it had been a good gamble: smoky maple barbecue sauce ribs, with roasted rosemary and garlic potatoes and vegetables.

Dean almost thought of reconsidering his burger. But after one bite, a smile grew on his face and he put the matter to bed.

By the end of their meal, they decided that they should take the morning easy, and depending on how they felt, they would decide from there.

After their meal, because it was still early in the evening, they went out for a walk to explore the hotel. While the outdoor pool was evidently closed because of the season, the indoor pool wasn’t and Castiel instantly added it to his to-do list during their stay. They also walked by the other two restaurants of the hotel and agreed that they should eat there as well before leaving on Sunday.

They eventually returned to their room, and after he had left Dean changing into his pajamas, Castiel drew himself a bath, as he had wanted to try out the tub the moment he had seen it.

After having enjoyed a proper and restful soak, he exited the bathroom, completely relaxed, and found Dean lying on his stomach on the bed, watching television.

Castiel dropped next to him as he saw the credits roll.

“Anything good?”

“You just missed it. It was a rerun of _Dr. Sexy_.”

“Hmmm. We’ll have to remedy that with the marathon you talked about.”

Dean turned to him. “You really want to still do that?”

“Of course.”

Dean nodded, smiling. “All right. I’ll plan it.”

Dean shut off the television and they both went to bed, which was ridiculously large. Two other persons would have had enough room to get in and no one would have been cramped.

Both lying on their backs, they listened to the quietness of the room.

“Was the bath everything you hoped for?” asked Dean.

“Yes. I highly recommend it. Not that the one we have is anything less spectacular.”

Dean turned to his side. “What do you put in your bath?”

“What?” asked Castiel, laughing. “What do you mean? Like soap?”

“No. You always smell something else after it. Not like when you shower. I—only notice because you usually take those in the evening when—”

“Before I go the bed,” said Castiel, finishing his sentence. Smiling at the corner of his mouth, he then added, “I do add something to my bath. Though I don’t remember someone ever asking me about it.”

“What is it?”

“I add honey.”

Dean laughed. “I should have known. You put this on everything. But wait, doesn’t that—how is that cleansing?”

“I don’t add an entire jar. Just enough to sooth the skin. I’ll draw you one, you’ll see.”

Dean snorted. “All right. I’m looking forward to this life changing experience.”

“Shut up. What about you? Was the food worth all the praise you had heard?”

“Ha. Yes. That burger was delicious. I might want to go for another one before we leave.”

“Good. You were so looking forward to it.”

“And thank you for letting me taste those ribs. I’m not sure I would have done it if the situation would have been reversed.”

“It was my pleasure. And I’m positive you would have done the same if you would have seen your face when my plate showed up.”

“Pretty sure I owe you one.”

“Next trip, then.”

“Yeah. Next trip.”

They remained quiet for a time. Without having meant to, the mention of a future holiday reminded Castuel of a certain issue.

“Dean? Can I ask a question?”

There was a short pause. “It’s the rule. So, yes, of course.”

“You—you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“What’s the question?” he asked, clearly expecting the question.

“Is—you, not traveling a lot, does it really have to do with work?”

Dean repositioned his leg. “No. I—it’s not just because I’m busy if I’m honest. It is partially, but it’s more like I don’t really like to travel.”

Castiel stirred a little. He waited for Dean to elaborate on the topic, but when he remained quiet, Castiel continued, treading the topic carefully.

“Does it have anything to do with what happened this afternoon?” he asked in a calm voice.

Dean remained quiet.

“Dean?”

Dean took a deep breath. “I don’t really like to travel because I get nervous. As you saw. It was never a problem before, but—I,” he stopped, clearing his throat. “Ever since my parents died, travelling has become an issue. It didn’t happen over night. It’s not like I stopped the day after they passed away. But it has been worrying me since it happened. And the less I did it, the more—” Dean stopped again, taking a deep breath. “Anyway, because of how my parents died, I—I…traveling became an issue.”

Confused and momentarily worried he had misunderstood how Dean’s parents had passed away, Castiel felt incredibly awful to not have been aware of that detail. “I thought they—”

“They passed away in their sleep because of a gas leak, yes. But they were away. On a trip. Traveling.”

Castiel shut his eyes, finally understanding.

“I know it’s silly. It was nobody’s fault. It just happened. But since then, traveling—not leaving the ranch or taking a vacation, but _traveling and being far away from home_—it scares me. When it happened, I kept thinking, if they would have just stayed home where it’s safe, none of this would have happened. Again, super aware it’s irrational, but I just—I don’t do it.” He let out a sigh.

“But you came to New York. To get me.”

“That was—different. And you saw what I looked like on the flight home. Mind you, flying had always been a problem even when I was a kid, so nothing new there. But I travel only if I absolutely have to. Granddad was the one traveling for everything. I…stayed at the ranch. Where it was safe. Because I keep feeling like something bad is going to happen if I don’t.”

“But you came to New York,” repeated Castiel. He knew Dean had been desperate in asking him for this favour, but up until that point, Castiel hadn’t realized the ordeal that Dean had also put himself through in order to simply reach out to him personally.

“Anyway, now you know what a mess I really am.”

“You’re not. Don’t say that. It’s perfectly understandable, Dean. Panic attacks and anxiety can surface in any shape or form. But there’s nothing shameful about it. I just—I wish I would have known. I wouldn’t have been so pointless this afternoon.”

“You were anything _but _pointless, Cas,” said Dean urgently. “Listen, you calmed me down. You got me in the car. And we continued. And it didn’t happen again. And all of this without taking one of those pills I hate so much. Trust me, so far, no one has managed to do this. No one.”

Although he found Dean’s comment reassuring, Castiel reflected that he had simply been lucky this time around, and it might not be same in the future.

“Well, I’m very glad I know now. And I tell you, this is not anything to feel ashamed of.” He thought a moment and then added, “So, this is the real reason why Henry added the vacation on the list. Not because you’re just working too much.”

“Yeah. He had been on my case for the last few years about it. Not hassling me, but you know. Whenever he had to go somewhere for work, he always invited me along and I always stubbornly refused. But it was also about taking a break from work and just spend time somewhere else. And I wouldn’t budge. He knew why. I knew why, but nothing changed. He obviously wanted me to get past this.”

“Ever thought of seeing someone about this? A professional, I mean?”

“I did. That was for a very short time, though. Not long after my parents had died. But I don’t know. I stopped going. I didn’t like it.”

“It might be helpful. They certainly would be far more qualified than me. But if you’d prefer not do that, I’d like to help you. I have no idea how, but I’d still like to help you.”

Dean let out a huge sigh of relief. “That would be really something, Cas. I mean, you’re already helping enough as it is.” 

And Castiel promised himself to start looking up information as soon as they were back on the ranch and to not let Dean dismiss it.

“Can I ask you a question, too?”

“Of course,” he said, smiling.

“When you talked about your family earlier, you didn’t mention anything about your parents,” said Dean in a soft voice. “Your dad. And your mom. Where are they?”

Castiel bit the inside of his cheek.

“My mom left after…after the whole ordeal with my dad, as I’m sure you know. And that was a really long time ago.”

“Left your _dad_, yes. But she still talked to you, right?”

Castiel shook his head. “No. None of us ever saw our mother after that. Didn’t see much of my father either, even if he had custody and that was—but she—she just left. Married someone else. Changed her name. To avoid—anyway. Anna more or less did the same, actually. Her last name is Milton now. And Dad, well. He tried. But work was hard after that and he wasn’t much around, either. The only employment he could find was overseas and it wasn’t fun work.”

“And you never see him? Or hear from him?”

“No. He keeps to himself after what happened.”

“I’m sorry, Cas. That’s just—I’m sorry it turned out that way.”

“Stop apologizing,” he said, laughing. “You didn’t do anything. And I’m kind of—this stuff doesn’t bother me much anymore.”

Dean sighed. “You have a superpower of tolerance because I wouldn’t have let this go. I would have had serious teenage rebellious years.”

“My siblings took care of that. And as I was the youngest, springing a rebellion in my teenage years wouldn’t have made that much waves.”

And then Castiel felt a smirk growing on his face. “Although…when I turned fourteen, my father said he’d be in town for the occasion to celebrate. He was in town, but due to a last minute work meeting, he didn’t make it to the small celebration at home. Want to hear what Lucifer, Anna and I did to his car for this small mishap?”

Dean turned to him, surprised. “Heck ya.”

The next morning, Castiel was woken up by Dean’s phone. He could hear it buzzing on his nightstand.

“Dean. Phone,” he mumbled.

Nothing.

And the phone was still buzzing.

He moved his elbow to poke at him, but realized Dean wasn’t next to him.

That was when he noticed the sound of the shower running in the bathroom.

Groaning and keeping his eyes tightly shut, he slid on Dean’s side of the bed to grab the phone and answered it.

“Dean’s phone, Castiel speaking,” he said, as clearly as he could, despite still feeling sleepy.

“Cas! Hey! It’s Sam.”

“Hello, Sam.”

“Why are you—is Dean okay?”

“Yes, he’s in the shower.”

“Okay, good.”

“He should be done soon, do you—”

“Actually, wait,” said Sam, cutting him off. “Cas, I’m—I’m glad I can speak to you.” 

Castiel opened his eyes, detecting a hint of worry in Sam’s voice. “Dean told me about yesterday. And I—I know he says he’s all right, but I wanted to make sure.”

“He’s better,” Castiel told him. “Not that I’m an expert on the subject, but so far, nothing of the sort happened again.”

“And he doesn’t want to run or come back home?”

“No. He’s adamant about staying. And he seems like his usual self.”

“Cas, I—I’m…thank you. I’m so happy Dean is there with you. And thank you for looking out for him. I hope that—I know that yesterday must have been scary for you, too. I know it still scares me when I see it happening. Dean should have warned you. _I _should have warned you, but I didn’t want to overstep. Whatever you did though, it seemed to have done the trick. So, just—thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Sam. But I’m not really sure you have to thank me for anything. I don’t feel like I’ve done much.”

“Trust me, you have. He’s there and he’s okay. As someone who’s been in your position, I tell you that’s quite the accomplishment right there.”

“Okay, um, thank you. I’ll keep that in mind. Do you want to wait for Dean or should I just tell him to call you back?”

“No, it’s okay. I know he’s all right now. That’s what I wanted to know. I’ll leave you guys alone. Dean can call if he feels like it, but otherwise, you guys should enjoy your day, okay?”

“All right. I’ll tell him. And have a nice day, too. And say hi to Jess.”

The rest of the weekend flew by. With Sam’s encouragement, Castiel tried his best to help Dean focus on the good part of the trip, showing him that everyone deserves to take a break and nothing bad was going to happen for it.

Following their plan, they took it easy in the morning and decided to have breakfast in their room, sitting in the comfy armchairs, next to the fireplace. They later on explored the town a little, but after lunch, Dean got wind of the town’s famous book market and insisted on them checking it out.

“I know you finished the only book you brought with you, like, weeks ago.”

“And I read others since then, too,” pointed out Castiel. “It’s not like I’m running low on reading material, Dean. The bedroom walls are made of it.”

“Yeah, okay. But still. You love books. We should go.”

“What about you?”

“I read.”

Castiel lifted an eyebrow.

“I do,” said Dean. “Come on, let’s go.”

The book market, an event occurring only once a month, was spread throughout a large parking lot near a church downtown. Despite the cool weather, it still attracted many avid readers to browse through the seemingly infinite sea of books available. A large number of books was laid out on tables, while some had to be fished out of boxes and piles starting from the ground up.

Castiel was nearly overwhelmed at the sight.

“How long can we stay?” he asked Dean.

“However long you want.”

“Dean, how long?”

“However long you want,” he repeated.

And Castiel stepped into an aisle, eager to discover treasures, with a smile on his face and Dean at his side. True to his word, Dean let Castiel browse however long he had desired. Without being glued to him, Dean made sure to keep up with him whenever Castiel would turn into another aisle, as Dean was also taking the time to examine the books.

It hadn’t taken long for Castiel to start accumulating books to set aside. Soon, Castiel had built up a few piles around him, which had evidently slowed him down when he was ready to explore other aisles.

Wanting to help Castiel, Dean grabbed some of his books to even the piles, but Castiel put his hand flatly on his, stopping him. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you?” said Dean, confused.

“Don’t mess up the piling system.”

Dean held down a grin. “The what now?”

“The piling system. It’s very important. Crucial, even.”

“And how exactly does it work?”

“This pile is the must get. It’s mostly classics because I love those,” he said, pointing at the second largest pile.

“I see. And this one,” said Dean, pointing at the largest one, amused.

“That’s the maybe pile. Usually contemporary fiction. From any genre, really.”

Dean nodded, tilting his head and examining the titles briefly. “And the small one?”

“Oh, that—that’s the fun one.”

“There’s a fun one. The others aren’t?”

“Well, yes. Just a different kind of—you should check it out.”

Intrigued, Dean tugged the small pile towards him to get a proper look. He started reading the back covers. While he did so, Castiel busied himself by continuing to browse, but he couldn’t help smiling.

A few minutes later, Dean glanced at him questionably, as Castiel knew he would. Remaining expressionless, Castiel turned to him and said, “Questions, Dean?”

“Um. You read cheesy romance novels? Even racy ones?”

“Of a sort, yes. Why?”

“Didn’t peg you for the type. Classics novels or non-fiction for you makes sense. But that’s really…I don’t want to say tacky but—”

Castiel chuckled. “Says the man who watches _Dr. Sexy M.D_. A show consisting of romantic entanglements between the hospital employees. And sometimes the patients.”

Dean widened his eyes.

“How did you—”

“I looked it up.”

“Okay, first off,” he said, lifting his hand defensively, “it’s so much more than that. Second, no one is gonna drag my show through the mud,” said Dean, feigning being insulted, which made Castiel’s smile widen. “And third, I—okay I don’t have a third. But it’s still not the same. Right?”

“Well, you know what they say: there’s only one way to find out.”

Dean rolled his eyes.

And then Castiel was inspired by an idea. “You said you read. We should find you one. And I think I know just the right section.”

Dean helped carrying Castiel’s books as he followed him down the alley until they reached the spot Castiel was looking for. They then passed the next hour laughing together, browsing through the western section. They picked a few titles from the general fiction, but Dean, at Castiel’s suggestion, also chose more frivolous ones as well. And while he had been stubborn at first, eventually, after reading his fair share of hilarious and nonsensical synopsis, Castiel could tell that Dean was actually looking forward to reading them.

Once they returned to the hotel in the late afternoon, Castiel went for a swim, while Dean took a nap back in the room, exhausted from his book venture.

Not even ten minutes after Castiel had begun doing lengths of the pool, however, he was pleasantly surprised to see Dean had taken a seat on one of the swimming pool loungers.

It appeared that Dean, who was lying on his back, with his legs stretched out and his eyes shut, had concluded that he could still take his nap and spend time with Castiel by accompanying him to the pool.

Which made Castiel laugh. He continued swimming, stopping from time to time to check up on Dean, who appeared to still be napping, despite the numerous guests speaking amongst themselves around him.

Just past an hour after Dean’s arrival though, Castiel noticed Dean had finally woken up, and was now seated at the edge of the pool, his feet dipped in the water.

Castiel swam to him and rested next to him, gripping the edge. “You’re up. Feeling better?”

Dean nodded.

“You’re not wearing your swimsuit. Don’t feel like taking a swim?”

Dean bit his lips and shook his head. “Not really.” He stared at him for a moment, and then, as if he suddenly felt uncomfortable, he said, “What—um, what time is it? Your usual ninety minutes must be almost done, now.”

Castiel frowned. “How—how do you know I like doing lengths for ninety minutes?”

“It’s usually how long you do them at home. At the ranch.”

Castiel was shocked that Dean had noticed. “Um, I still have fifteen minutes left, but we can leave, if you’re getting hungry.”

Dean shook his head. “No, Cas. Finish your swim.” And then he withdrew his feet from the water and stood up. “I’ll head back to the room and change for tonight.”

“You’re sure? It’s really not an issue.”

Dean shook his head again, harboring a faint smile. “It’s okay. Take your time. I’ll—I’ll call Sam. You told me he tried to call this morning.”

Castiel hesitated a moment, but said, “All right. I won’t be long.”

And he watched Dean head for the exit, after he had nodded awkwardly at him.

As for their evening, they had another nice dinner and went for a stand up show not far from the hotel. Their seats, having bought their tickets at the last minute, were horrible, and yet they still had a delightful time.

Before leaving on Sunday afternoon, Dean had wanted to visit a saddle maker shop he had seen advertised at the hotel. While he wasn’t knowledgeable in that area, Castiel still enjoyed visiting the shop. He left Dean to his business and observed carefully the different saddles displayed throughout the store. He stopped when he saw one that had a heavy decoration at the back that looked like wings.

"Those could almost match with your boots,” joked Dean, who was back at his side.

“I think that would be a little too eccentric for Elliot Ness.”

Dean burst into laughter. “You’re probably right. He’s very dignified, after all.”

Dean placed his order and he left the shop content.

They stopped at a food stand they had noticed on their way into town to load up on food for their way back.

As they were about to take to the road, Dean grabbed both bags of food and handed Castiel the keys.

Not wanting to argue and grateful that Dean was upfront about it, he simply added, “Let me know if you feel like driving. Or if you need a break.”

Dean nodded. “I will. And I’m perfectly fine right now.”

After taking the time to eat their snack in the car, Castiel turned on the engine and they set off back home.

Dean didn’t have any episodes or any discomfort throughout the entire way back and remained his joyful self.

With the music playing on low, Dean had had the good idea to read out loud one of the books he had purchased to pass the time, which turned out to be extremely entertaining.

The only thing Dean had complained about was that they didn’t have any of Castiel’s cookies left to eat.

“I’ll have to plan for some on the way back next time.”

Dean smiled and said, “I’m already looking forward to it,” and continued reading their titillating tale.


	7. A Quiet Christmas

The month of November proved itself to be laborious at the ranch, as the pressure of the holidays grew exponentially with every passing day.

Thanksgiving had been well celebrated, with a delicious feast in good company at the ranch, where guests and employees alike had all dined in one of the main rooms like a loving family gathering. Everybody had been merry and on their best behaviour, and somehow, no unfortunate drama had occurred.

In December, however, Castiel was hit by a wave of homesickness. He wasn’t sure if it was solely due to the harsh weather, or less daylight affecting him, or even that, despite having thoroughly enjoyed Thanksgiving, the holidays were actually getting to him—something which he had never thought possible. Nonetheless, the fact remained that he grew morose and slightly depressed right after Thanksgiving.

It also didn’t help his morale that Dean had to burn the midnight oil many days a week by that time. Although they were still sharing their dinner, as per the rule, Dean headed back to the ranch afterwards to squeeze in additional hours and Castiel was left to spend the evening on his own.

At first, he hadn’t particularly minded. After all, solitary time wasn’t a new concept to him, nor did he have an aversion to it. But at the ranch, he grew tired of it quickly.

Wishing to be helpful, he had asked Dean how he could be of use to lessen his workload. Unfortunately, Dean’s supplementary work consisted mostly in dealing with troubled board members, and while Dean had never stated it as is, Castiel knew that his presence could perhaps aggravate the situation in that department.

Castiel also noticed that Dean appeared to be distracted. He assumed it was simply the long hours, doubled up with the sad realization that this would be Dean’s first Christmas without Henry.

But after some time, Castiel wasn’t so sure that was the main issue after all. Dean was constantly in a bad mood whenever Mr. Adler would show up at the ranch. What particularly alarmed Castiel about Mr. Adler’s visits, however, was that Dean always made a point that Castiel would be extremely busy and far away from the main building whenever the man would show up.

As if Dean purposely wanted no interaction between Castiel and Mr. Adler at all. This made Castiel grow wary, and he wondered if Dean had received new threats. When he questioned Dean about it, Dean assured him that he had not received anything of the sort and that he was simply tired of Mr. Adler’s poor attitude. Castiel trusted Dean with his answer, but feeling that he was much more anxious than he had let on, he also promised himself to keep a close eye on Dean until Christmas.

And yes, _Christmas_. After a brief discussion, Castiel and Dean had agreed that they would spend it at the ranch, just like Thanksgiving, with the rest of the crew, as well as with Jessica and Sam.

They had both also agreed that they would not exchange gifts, on the account that neither of them really needed anything and that enjoying each other’s company was more than enough.

Which, Castiel had to admit, was the truth.

That being said, he also knew that there had been another reason why they had decided that they should not venture in that direction. One that they had both avoided voicing.

For multiple reasons, a distinctive tension had been growing between them since their trip.

Neither had broached the subject.

Neither had acted overly differently.

And neither had stepped out of line.

Both had remained on their respective side of the bed.

Both enjoyed each other’s company.

And both had been particularly considerate of the other.

In a caring and watchful way. Small, yet thoughtful gestures were always present, but never pointed out.

Castiel had to remind himself to not get carried away and mistake the kindness Dean was showing him for actual wooing.

Because this—be it their agreement, relationship, friendship, whatever this was—as they had decided from day one, was not to be about that. They had set the rules and had created boundaries early on to not make things uncomfortable.

Dean hadn’t crossed any of them. Neither had Castiel, and he certainly wasn’t about to start.

And of course, because that is often how the universe works, the moment Castiel had been resolute on the matter, as if on cue, that was when Castiel was given another issue to deal with.

To Castiel’s slight distress, his dreams turned to a more sexual nature than they had before. Though their variety had been undeniable, he had stubbornly dismissed the first three as such, claiming that nothing much had actually occurred in them.

In other words, Castiel had woken up before the _good part_.

A fact that he had been glad of, since he was desperate to not complicate things.

But the dreams continued rolling in, and soon, not only did they increase in intensity and content, thus making it impossible for him to deny their nature, but they also became much more frequent, and Castiel grew wary that Dean would start noticing soon.

He hoped that all of it—dreams, tension, paranoia—was due to the burden of the holidays, and that in due course everything would return to the way it was.

In other news, Castiel was happy to hear of Hannah’s prospective holidays. She was to spend Christmas with her family. This was a surprise to Castiel, since Hannah, like him, was mostly estranged to her family. But Castiel was delighted to learn of the news and hoped that everything would go well with her.

Castiel had also replied via email to Naomi’s monthly check-in, as he had promised to do. It wasn’t a strenuous task. In fact, it almost felt like a social call. She informed him on small updates about the hotel, and he mentioned a few things he’d learned or reflected on about the ranch. He supposed it was to prove that he was truly at the ranch.

His last email with Naomi had left him skeptical of that fact, however. She had been extremely vague with the details concerning the hotel, and her questions nearly had a criticizing tone attached to it.

Of course, by email it was difficult to prove, and Castiel reasoned that he was most likely simply reading too much into it.

And yet, it was another thing that weighed on his mind.

And that was the reason why he eventually caved in and called Balthazar. His friend had been keeping up with his updates, of the hotel and himself, and he had been nagging Castiel to give him a proper phone call for quite some time.

It was no secret as to what Balthazar had wanted to discuss, and given the recent weirdness between him and Dean, Castiel had judged that speaking to Balthazar about it would only render the situation uncomfortable.

But now with Naomi’s potentially questionable behaviour, he felt that a conversation with his friend would at the very least put his mind at ease about the hotel.

And though he had desperately attempted to avoid this topic, dreading the potential implication, he also knew that he had waited long enough about his dream situation and should ask Balthazar about it. He was evidently aware of the most obvious explanation behind them—he wasn’t that stupid—but he also knew that dreams could also imply something else, and he thought if he would know for sure, perhaps the dreams would stop.

Therefore, around mid-December, after Castiel had once again dreamed vividly of Dean and him having sex—this time in their bed, which had definitely added on to the realness—he called Balthazar.

He had made sure to begin the conversation about the hotel, and Balthazar reassured him that everything was exactly as it was, as far he knew. If Naomi’s attitude was indeed different, it was probably because of the busy time of the year, Balthazar had suggested, to Castiel’s great relief.

Once that was out of the way, Castiel was momentarily tempted to end the conversation on that note.

“Wait,” yelled Balthazar. “You said you had two things to ask me. You’ve only asked about Naomi.”

Castiel cleared his throat. “I—I wanted your opinion on a particular matter. I thought it would be less awkward if I asked you than Hannah…and it’s also your _thing_, but maybe that’s not the best idea after all.”

“What is it? It’s about Dean, right?”

“Yes. And no. Maybe.”

“Spill.”

“Um, no. Like I said, probably not a good idea.”

“I see. So it’s about sex. And Dean. Bloody hell, mate! About time! Now you have to tell me.”

“What? I didn’t—that’s not what I said.”

“That’s what you meant, Cassie. Again, shoot. What happened? How was it?”

“I didn’t have—” he started yelling into the phone, but stopped himself when he realized what he was doing. He stood up from the couch and left for his bedroom, feeling exposed in the living room, even if he was on his own. And he shut the bedroom door for good measure.

“I didn’t have sex with Dean,” he repeated. “Stop saying that.”

“Please, tell me you’re lying.”

“No. I’m not.”

“What the bloody hell are you waiting for then? Shag the damn bloke already. You’ve been there for months! You’re married!”

“I knew calling you was a mistake.”

“And you still called me. Consider this your reminder to ride your husband. There. I did the world a service. You’re bloody welcome.”

“Are you done?”

“Probably not, but I’ll give you a break now that I’ve said my piece. What is it you wanted my opinion on, then?”

Castiel remained silent.

“Cassie?”

“I—fine. I—um…okay don’t laugh, serious question here, but I’m having…dreams.”

“Dreams about Dean?”

“Yes, but—”

“Was he ass naked and doing all kinds of sweet things to you in it?”

“Well, it’s—it’s mo—actually—”

“Ooooh, you were the one doing them. Well done, Cassie. I’m so proud.”

“How the fuck do you—it doesn’t matter. Look, what—what do you think it means?”

The was a short pause, and then Balthazar said, “Are you shitting me right now?”

“I knew I shouldn’t have said anything,” groaned Castiel. “Look, real rational conversation here. About dreams—but still. Evidently, I understand what it could mean, especially considering the weird situation, but they are just dreams. You can’t really take this literally, right? So besides _that_, what do you think it could mean?”

“Why are you asking? Since when do you care about dream symbolism?”

“I care because it’s making everything awkward now. I heard you talk about dream interpretation at the bar for years. And you actually seemed to make sense of them. So now, can you please help me out?”

Balthazar sighed and waited a moment. Then he said, with a clear hint of playfulness in his voice, “Details would help, Cas.”

“For fuck’s sake.”

“Come on. Start talking or I’m going to start guessing and I have a big imagination. And a filthy one, at that.”

“Balthazar there are lim—”

“All right. I’ll start slow. So when you were giving it to him, was he a screamer or a talk—“

“Fuck. Okay, stop. What do you want to know? The details that matter.”

“That matters to me…”

“Balthazar. You know what I mean.”

“Where was it happening? Like where were you in the dream?”

“Here. At the ranch.”

“Specifically?”

“I don’t know. Many places. Like the stables. And one was outside in the field. That was the first one. Wasn’t much going on there. Just,” he let out a sigh, feeling silly saying it out loud, “just like lying on the grass.”

“Okay, we’ll come back to that. Where else?”

“In bed.”

“Yours or Dean’s?”

“Um, I—Dean’s.”

“Yours or Dean’s, Cas? What was with the hesitation?”

“I said Dean’s.”

“Fine. And anywhere else?”

“Yes. I mean, um, it’s been kind of all over the place.”

“But always at the ranch?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, what was happening in the first one? Anything odd or what’s the first thing that stands out? Other than the obvious, I’m sure.”

“Nothing much, like I said. We were just, um, in a field. I—I woke up pretty early on in that one.”

“And that was just the two of you?”

“Ew. Yes. Are you asking real questions?”

“Yes. You asked for my help. Is it always just two of you in your dreams? I’m not asking if anyone else was participating, though I’d like to know if that was the case, but was there anybody else who showed up, or was there earlier in the dream or something?”

“No, it—I, wait. Yes. The one in the stables. It was just us, but—but then a couple of people from the ranch showed. But they weren’t doing anything. They were just…there. It creeped me out. That’s why I woke up.”

“Okay. And what about the most recent one you’ve had?”

“We were in bed. Nothing odd. Actually, it took me a moment to realize I was dreaming when I woke up. It felt so real. I opened my eyes and Dean was asleep, and we weren’t naked or anything so I knew I had just dreamed it.”

“I’m sorry, what was that last part?”

“That I thought I dreamed it?”

“Dean was sleeping? What do you mean? Like next to you?”

Castiel realized he had made a mistake and had mentioned a little detail he would have preferred keeping to himself. “I—what I meant was—”

“You woke up next to him?”

“I—yes, but—”

“Are you or are you not fucking him, Cas?”

“I’m not. That’s the—I am not. We just,” Castiel let out a groan of frustration. “Okay, I didn’t want to tell you because you’d make a big deal about it, but we, um, sleep together. Sleeping as in actual _sleeping_, I mean.”

“I can’t decide if you’re fucking with _me _now.”

“We only share the bed,” he added, annoyed. “Because of the rule. The one you keep bringing up in every text you send me. Look, it’s a really long story. About…many things, but anyway, we just do now. And that’s it. We just share the bed. Nothing else is happening.”

“I still think you’re fucking with me.”

“Fuck, what do you want me to say!”

“That you will stop being a bloody idiot. You’re telling me nothing has happened, but you share the bed. You’re married. You’re having sex dreams about him. He’s gorgeous and he was flat out eye-fucking you at the hotel. Are you trying to torment the poor man or just yourself?”

“For the last time, it’s not like that. We agreed that—”

“Castiel bloody Novak, let’s talk real for a moment,” he said, cutting him off.

“You’re supposed to help me about my dreams. You said you would.”

“I will. But first, I have a question for you: when was the last time you had any fun, huh? And I mean the kind that really counts. Doesn’t matter what it is—spa day, beer fest, a weekend shag—it doesn’t matter, as long as it’s something satisfying.”

“I have fun.”

“Do you?”

“I am…fun.”

“That’s not the question. When was the last time you actually allowed yourself a good time? Did something impulsive or something for yourself, and not a favour for someone else? And don’t—” added Balthazar in a hurry, “don’t say the Fourth of July, because you always use that one anecdote for everything now. And that was over three years ago. That’s sad if you were going to use it as an answer.”

“I was not going to…”

“Uh-huh.” Balthazar let out a sigh. “So? I’m still waiting. When was the last time?”

“I don’t know. I was—busy at the end of the summer. And Hannah was too in the spring.”

“No comment on that.”

“There was a few parties at the hotel last year. That was—pleasant. And I—um…”

“So, your answer is that you haven’t had proper fun in a really long while.”

“Well, what _you_ consider fun can sometimes be considered against the law, FYI.”

“True, but not always. Your Fourth of July thing wasn’t. Did you have fun?”

“It was a really reckless thing to do.”

“But did you enjoy yourself?”

Castiel sighed.

“Cassie?”

“Yes. I did.”

“Why aren’t you doing this now, then?”

“Other than it feels inappropriate? And will just complicate things?”

“Or it could also simplify things, too. Ever thought of that?”

“Pretty sure you’re only saying that because that’s your solution to everything.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. And maybe I’m not either.”

“Great. That clarified nothing. Can I have your interpretation now? A real one. Like you always do?”

Balthazar sighed. “It ain’t bloody science, but sure. Other than the massively obvious message, it could mean many things. Usually, sex dreams with people we know may represent what we want. Not necessarily the person in question, but rather what they represent to you. If I ask you what’s the first thing about Dean that comes to mind for you, what would it be?”

Thinking quickly, he answered, “I don’t know. He’s a nice person. He has an impressive career and responsibilities. A good life that he built himself, with family and friends. He’s—”

“Okay,” Balthazar stopped him. “So, basically, everything you just said about Dean, that’s something you’re seeking for yourself. It’s what you want.”

“You mean…I’m jealous? I don’t feel jealous. I don’t resent him at all. Why would I?”

“I didn’t say jealous. Whatever he has, you would like to succeed achieving this yourself.”

“But—I do have these things, too. Maybe not exactly like him, but I still have a career, friends and all that.”

“Maybe you feel like you don’t as much anymore. You mentioned an impressive career and responsibility. Even if you are happy with your career, you’re obviously benched from yours at the moment. And based on what you’ve told me of your tasks over there, it’s different than your usual deal. I don’t mean demeaning or below you, just not your usual spill. And while you might enjoy it, your dream could imply that you also wished you could do more. See what I mean?”

“Yes. I think so. What about the locations? Why was this detail important?”

“The location is usually an indicator as well, but I suppose it is a bit complicated now giving that you live where you work. But since it’s always tied to the ranch, when it could have been anywhere, it’s clear that you have the ranch on the brain. Think about your general vibe in your dream. I mean, were you upset? You said people were around you at some point. That could mean you feel exposed. Maybe it’s about how you feel you’re being perceived at the ranch about all this? Or just in general?”

“Okay, I’ll think about that. Thank you. This helps.”

“Sure, no problem. But Cas?”

“Yes?”

“If you keep having those, stop trying to rationalize everything. I know you said you’re not there for that reason, but you’re allowed to enjoy yourself, too.”

Castiel let out a deep sigh.<strike></strike>

“Also,” continued Balthazar gleefully, “now that I know you share a bed, might I add a few helpful comments? Like remember that pajamas are entirely optional and—”

“God. Noted. Ignoring everything you said, but noted. I’m hanging up now. Thank you and goodbye, Balthazar.”

His conversation with Balthazar had cheered him up, although it had been somewhat embarrassing.

But he still felt uneasy. The holidays were crushing him.

He tried to remain positive and look forward to his Christmas with the Winchesters at the ranch, even if he feared he wouldn’t be able to see much of Dean at that time either, because of his busy schedule.

But he was granted a surprise on the morning of Christmas Eve. He woke up alone in bed, as had been the case for the last few weeks. He got up, put on thick slippers (because the floor had gotten really cold) and a housecoat that Dean had lent him, and dragged his feet to the kitchen nearly upset at eating his breakfast alone again.

When he turned the corner of the hallway, however, he found Dean in his pajamas, cooking breakfast.

“You’re up, already? Shit. Did I wake you? I was trying to not make any noise.”

“No, you didn’t wake me. My alarm went off,” he said, lifting his phone.

“Damn it. I forgot to bring it with me. I wanted to let you sleep in.”

“Why? What’s going on? How are you still here? I thought you had a meeting today with—”

“I’m off,” said Dean, shaking his head while pouring coffee into a mug.

Castiel froze.

“What? But it’s—it’s…you said that—”

“I know. Sorry. I didn’t mean to lie, but that would have ruined the surprise.” He walked towards him and handed him the mug.

“What surprise?”

“You’ll see,” said Dean, smirking.

Castiel stared at him, wondering if he was still asleep.

“Since you’re already up, we should eat. We have a bit of packing to do before we leave,” said Dean.

“We’re leaving?”

Dean smiled at him. “We’re not going far.”

Castiel took a sip of his drink, following him to the kitchen table.

They ate their breakfast, but not in a hurry. Dean had already prepared most of what they needed for their mysterious trip, and as they ate their pancakes, he gave Castiel pointers for packing.

“What do I need?”

“The usual stuff you bring with you on a trip. But don’t over do it. We’re good. And comfy clothes. And warm, too.”

Castiel lifted an eyebrow looking at him suspiciously.

“Dean, where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. I ain’t gonna tell you now. You’ll find out soon enough.”

“But…what about Sam and Jess? And the rest of the crew….”

“Sam and Jess aren’t here this Christmas. They already left for Jess’ parents. They usually stay here at the ranch, because—but the situation is different this year. I insisted that we’d be fine and that I wouldn’t work. And the crew, well…Bobby assured me like a hundred times a day that they had everything under control. And I’m pretty sure Donna said she’d kick my ass if I stayed here on purpose. So, here we are.”

After their breakfast, Dean left Castiel packing. He recommended that he used one of Dean’s backpacks instead of his suitcase. Even more intrigued, Castiel did as he was told, while Dean undertook a check around the house, making sure everything was locked and turned off before they left.

When Castiel arrived at the entrance with his bag, Dean was waiting for him with only a small backpack as well.

Grinning at Castiel’s confusion, he took Castiel’s bag from his hands and dropped both bags on the floor.

Castiel sighed at his silence. He grabbed his trench coat, but Dean shook his head and handed him a large winter coat. “I think you’d be okay, but I don’t want to risk it. You’re gonna need better boots too.”

His puzzlement ever rising, Castiel did as Dean suggested. Wearing that coat made him feel ridiculous. It was so gigantic on him that it felt as though he was floating in it.

Chuckling at him, Dean helped him fix his hood and his thick scarf that was practically strangling him.

“I’m not five, you know.”

“And yet, it’s still adorable to watch you try,” said Dean.

Castiel squinted at him, even though he was grateful for Dean’s help.

A short knock was then heard at the door.

“Perfect timing,” said Dean. He opened the door and found Alicia smiling at them on the other side.

“Everything ready?” he asked.

“Yup. Everything is just like you asked.” She glanced at their bags. “You want us to give you a hand with these, too?”

Dean shook his head. “No, we’re good. Thank you, Alicia.”

“No problem.” And she stepped away from the door to leave room for them to get out.

Once outside, Castiel was expecting the car ready and packed, but it was Dave Mather and Elliot Ness, held by Max, who were waiting for them instead.

Castiel turned to Dean with a smile on his face. “Where are we going?”

“I’m still not telling you,” he said, smirking.

They carried their bags to the horses. Castiel took hold of the reins Max had been holding, as Dean busied himself with a last minute fix-up with the saddles. The twins waved them goodbye, walking back to the stables and wishing them a merry Christmas.

After Castiel had mounted Elliot Ness, Dean handed him his backpack, and then mounted Dave Mather in his turn quickly.

At first, Castiel expected Dean to direct them towards one of the luxurious cabins (since he knew that some of them were free at the moment), but it became clear that wasn’t the case as they headed in a completely different direction.

His mind then wandered on the properties that were currently under construction.

Perhaps one of them had been completed earlier than planned and Dean had purposely kept it a secret.

But as they passed by the hiking woods and continued down the hills on the snow-covered fields, Castiel understood that that wasn’t their destination either.

After a good half hour of riding, Castiel was positive they had passed every additional property (old or new) on the land, and since Dean remained silent on the subject, he then gave up trying to guess where Dean was taking them and simply enjoyed their outing.

The air was cold, but not freezing. Small snowflakes were falling, but the wind was barely present, just enough to feel a faint breeze on their faces.

And it was calm and quiet, even more so than at the house. A peaceful surrounding that Castiel had grown to appreciate since his arrival.

He looked at Dean, who was beaming at him, apparently happy to see that Castiel was enjoying himself.

Taking in the magnificent winter scenery, he rode next to him, not caring about the time, until Dean eventually stopped at the top of a hill.

Not far below, there was a small, quaint cabin. Given the location, it was obvious why this cabin wasn’t one of the options to rent. It was too far from everything.

But even from where he was standing, the cabin didn’t seem decrepit or abandoned. Castiel discerned solar panels on top.

“Dean? Where are we?”

His eyes remaining on the cabin, Dean said, “That was Granddad’s oldest cabin. That’s the one his grandfather had bought.”

Castiel gasped, remembering something buried really deep into his memories. “The one you went during the holidays. You used to ski or something?”

Dean gawked at him. “You remember that?”

“It just—it just came back to me. You always told me of your Christmas holidays when we met during the summer.”

“You’re right. We used to come here for Christmas,” said Dean as he slowly started going down the hill, with Castiel riding next to him. “As Sam and I grew older though, we didn’t come here as often. And the winters became harsher. Coming here for Christmas was almost too risky. But we still made sure it was operational and even upgraded it a few years back in case an opportunity would present itself.” Dean tilted his head admiring the cabin ahead. “The weather is unexpectedly mellow in this time of year. I’m—I’m kinda sad that Granddad never got to return here again. I just…I really liked this place growing up and I always wished to come back for Christmas one day.”

“And you picked now? With me?”

“That’s the one place that existed back in the days that you hadn’t seen or experienced properly. So I thought, why not?”

They had almost reached the cabin, when Castiel asked, “Um, Dean? How are we going to last in that cabin? I only packed clothes and your bag is smaller than mine. I’d be impressed if you manage to survive without food. And what about the horses?”

Dean laughed. “I took care of everything. Over this past week I started bringing stuff we would need, like wood fire, blankets, food, including hay for the horses. I checked that the plumbing and backup generator were in order, and fixed the solar panels which were evidently covered in a thick layer of snow. My clothes and everything are already there. I’m carrying extra food right now.”

“You went there this week? When?”

“That’s why I left really early in the mornings. There was a lot to bring so I had to make a few trips.”

“But I didn’t see any tracks on our way?” said Castiel.

“That’s because that’s not the route I took this week,” explained Dean. “I had to use a sleigh to carefully carry the hay, and because of the hills, I had to take the scenic route. Don’t think the horses would have been super happy with me otherwise.”

Off their horses, Dean unlocked the stable door and slid it open.

Once everyone was inside and the door was shut, Castiel helped Dean tend to the horses. The small stable, which consisted of four stalls, was attached to the back of the cabin. Dean pointed out a door, next to a large dark window.

“We can access the cabin through there. The window is right next to the pantry, so we can check up on the horses without leaving the cabin, too.”

“Cool.”

Dean turned on the heating system of the stables so the horses wouldn’t freeze. They unsaddled the horses and let them cool off in their separate stalls. Dean quickly explained to Castiel where everything was in the stables (hay, blankets, etc.) and how to work the heating system. 

Once both horses were taken care of<strike></strike> Castiel and Dean headed inside the cabin with their backpacks.<strike></strike>

The cabin was essentially one room, with the exception of the bathroom. Castiel counted his blessings that there was a toilet and that he wouldn’t have to run outside in the middle of winter.

The rest of the place constituted of a kitchen area with a wood burning stove and small booth. Next to it, a large front window was giving view to the woods around them. On the other side of the room, facing the window, was a couch and a small coffee table beside it. Then a door, which Castiel had deduced was the bathroom. A fireplace was on the next wall, and right next to it, below the large front window was, of course, the bed.

The only bed.

A very small one.

Castiel was curious to know how an entire family of five had possibly managed to all sleep in this cabin.

As if Dean had read his thoughts, he showed Castiel that the couch was a pull-out bed, and that the booth could also be transformed for sleeping arrangements.

Castiel was impressed by the practicality of it all.

They set up the place. Castiel helped Dean unpack the food they had brought, such as bread, eggs, bacon, potatoes and ham. There were also a tin can of cookies made by Jessica and two large meat pies.

Castiel looked at Dean, with one lifted eyebrow at the sight of the already cooked pies.

“I cheated,” said Dean. “I brought some stuff already cooked because otherwise it would take us forever.”

Castiel shook his head, faking disapproval.

“Which reminds me, I’ll start a fire in the stove, because the cabin doesn’t have heating system, unlike the stables, and at some point we will want to get going with our lunch.”

While Dean was busy with his task, Castiel finished up putting the rest of the food they had brought in the pantry, and stored the meat, along with beers and the milk in the cooler.

As the fire grew stronger, Dean put on Christmas music (on an old stereo), pulled up the rug by the couch and opened the hatch to retrieve a box tucked away underneath the floor.

He opened the box and said, “Tada!” thus revealing Christmas decorations.

Castiel laughed at his boyish grin. They briefly went out to get themselves a Christmas tree. The task wouldn’t have taken very long, as there was a fair amount of options surrounding the cabin alone, but Castiel and Dean had fun arguing over the best tree to choose. Eventually, they found one they both agreed on, and they carried it back together to the cabin.

At first, Castiel thought the tree was rather small, but once inside, along with the rest of the furniture and themselves, the tree looked gigantic.

For safety measure, they opted to set the tree in between the bed and the booth, so it would be in the dead center between the stove and fireplace.

They also thought they would be able to admire it best while sitting on the couch.

By the time they finished decorating the tree, Castiel heard his stomach growling, which earned him a laugh from Dean.

“Somebody is hungry. I should start on the lunch too. It will take a while to warm up anyway.”

“I don’t understand how that’s possible,” said Castiel, clutching his stomach. “We ate before leaving and that wasn’t that long ago.”

“It seems like your ride opened up your appetite.”

The soup was slowly warming up over the oven, and Dean set aside noodles to add on later and the necessary ingredients to make them grilled cheeses as well, before rejoining Castiel who was still digging out decorations from the box.

Dean hanged the Christmas wreath over the couch, and Castiel put up some garlands by the window, along with Christmas lights.

Castiel was busy admiring the tree when he caught Dean examining a fake mistletoe ornament for a moment. He then hurriedly hid it in an old personalized Christmas stocking, before dropping it into the box.

The noodles were nearly ready, so Dean attacked the grilled cheeses, after a glance at the horses, making sure they were okay. Castiel set up the table with a bright red tablecloth and yellow candlesticks.

They ate their delicious meal while listening to music, with enthusiasm.

After they had been considerably nourished, Dean stopped the music and set up his laptop on the coffee table.

“If you tell me you have Wi-Fi here, I will be both incredibly impressed for the range and almost disappointed by it too,” said Castiel.

“No Wi-Fi,” he laughed. “We barely have radio range.”

“Then why the laptop?”

“Because we can still watch DVDs. And I thought it was about time we had the marathon we talked about.” He pulled out of his bag the first season of _Dr. Sexy_, _MD._

Castiel burst into laughter. “I love it. But—isn’t that ruining the authenticity of the place?” he asked, gesturing around them.

“True. But I’m cheating with the food and generators. And between you and me, I’m kind of happy that not everything is that authentic, otherwise the bathroom would be outside.”

“I see what you mean.”

Since they had just eaten, they chose to keep the popcorn for later in the evening, and instead opted for coffee to warm themselves up. Castiel put the heavy kettle on, having fun examining the old fire oven as Dean watched him quietly from the couch, smiling, unbeknownst to him.

Still waiting for the kettle, Dean went to check up on the horses briefly. When he was back, two mugs and the French press coffee maker were ready on the coffee table next to the laptop, and Castiel was patiently waiting for him on the couch. He had muffled himself with a thick wool blanket, and lifted it up slightly to invite Dean to take a seat next to him and keep warm.

Halfway through the first episode, Castiel wasn’t convinced he would be that taken with the medical drama. That being said, he immediately understood why Dean was raving about the eponymous character, as he was certainly living up to his name.

Soon enough, though, Castiel found himself sucked more deeply into the story lines. He didn’t really care much about medical setting (though it was still informative and interesting), but he appreciated the juiciness of the relationship drama.

He caught Dean glancing at him on multiples occasions, which always gave him a hint that something very important and dramatic was about to unfold in the next scene.

And he found it incredibly adorable of him to do so.

They didn’t do much the rest of the day, and eventually, after five consecutive episodes, two refills of coffee, one bowl of popcorn, licorice, and a few of Jessica’s gingerbread, shortbread and butterscotch cookies, Castiel had to admit that he needed to know what would happen between Dr. Sexy and Dr. Piccolo, or help him God, he’d be very upset.

Watching this ridiculous, engrossing show, laughing and gasping at the screen, made him incredibly content.

The best part, however, was that he was sharing this moment with Dean next to him. Dean, who was smirking at every single one of his reactions. At his protests or random comments.

Dean, who was practically snuggled up next to him.

They took a short intermission around episode seven, where they had taken a small stroll outside to get some fresh air. But came back inside eager to continue.

They paused their marathon once more in mid-episode nine, tended to the meat pies and continued watching until their meal was ready.

Fed, they both agreed that it had been a ridiculous amount of television for one day, so they turned off the laptop and went back to the stables to check up on the horses again.

Castiel fixed warm water for the horses as instructed by Dean, while he cleaned up their boxes. Dean double-checked that they had proper blankets and Castiel made sure the stables door was locked, which granted him a chuckle from Dean.

“What? You never know.”

Convinced these guys would be fine for the night, and feeling sleepy after their meat pies, they then decided to slowly get ready for bed themselves.

Since they were in the middle of nowhere, with absolutely no risk of running into anyone, they agreed that there was really no reason to share the bed.

The rather small bed.

After bickering about who should take the bed (Dean insisted that Castiel should have the bed, but Castiel refused), Dean eventually consented to take the bed, only if Castiel would have it the next day.

As Dean was undertaking his bedtime routine in the bathroom, Castiel was arranging the pull-out bed with pillows, sheets and a large number of blankets. Castiel sat at the edge of his bed trying it out and found it relatively comfortable.

“All yours,” said Dean, exiting the bathroom, and Castiel picked up his bag to change.

Teeth brushed, face (and body) washed with a damp cloth and pajamas on, he returned to the main room and found himself in complete darkness, with the moon shining through the window and the small fire still crackling.

Trying not to knock over anything, he carefully made his way to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water to leave next to him, so he wouldn’t have to walk on the cold floor during the night if he got thirsty.

With his glass in hand, Castiel hastily, and without thinking, made his way to the bed, put down his glass on the nightstand and slid under the warm covers.

Next to Dean.

“Um, Cas?” With the moonlight, Castiel could discern Dean’s look of puzzlement at him, as he held his breath.

Still, Dean’s expression was not what had tipped him off on the issue at hand.

No. It was when Castiel assessed how truly cramped they both were, accidentally bumping his knees into Dean’s, that he finally realized what had just occurred.

Debating if his mistake was actually funny or incredibly embarrassing, Castiel stared at Dean and said, “Sorry.”

“What?” croaked Dean.

“Sorry. I forgot. Habit, I suppose—I just did it without thinking.” He let out a faint laugh. But Dean wasn’t laughing, so Castiel sat up and pushed off the covers. “I’m sorry, I just find this funny for some reason.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’ll go to my bed now,” he said, as his toes touched the cold floor.

But Dean stopped him.

“I meant, it’s okay if you stay.”

Castiel paused a moment. He twisted himself towards Dean. Still lying on his side, Dean had extended his hand on the warm spot Castiel had just left, examining him with kind eyes.

Castiel glanced at the pull-out couch, and curled his toes at the contact of the icy floor.

The bed slightly squeaked as Dean pushed himself further onto his side to leave more room for Castiel.

Castiel observed him for a moment, holding his breath.

And Castiel slid his leg back under the covers.

Without a word, Dean helped adjust Castiel’s pillows, knowing how he liked them. Once Castiel had settled next to him, Dean pulled the cover over them.

They were both lying on their sides, facing each other.

“Do you have enough blankets? Am I hoarding it?” asked Dean.

“No.” Castiel was staring at him. “I’m good.”

While they kept to their respective sides and consciously did not cross the invisible line, their proximity was blatantly evident.

“Tell me if I am.”

Castiel gave him a short nod, and Dean slowly repositioned himself onto his back. Castiel watched Dean attentively a few seconds more, and then imitated him.

“So, um, I feel stupid asking you this now, but what do you usually do for Christmas, Cas?”

“Nothing much, really. I often work. And if not, I usually just enjoy the day peacefully.”

“On your own?”

“Sometimes. But not always. Friends’ gathering. That sort of thing.”

“So this isn’t too…quiet and isolated?”

“No. I like it. You?”

“Pretty similar to how I spend my Christmases, yes. Quiet, I mean.”

“Even at the ranch? I—I’m assuming it’s at the ranch, considering you mentioned you guys hadn’t been here in a while.”

“Yes, at the ranch. And while most of everyone is still present, and there is an actual Christmas dinner—not unlike Thanksgiving—I usually prefer keeping to myself for that one.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure. I still spend it with my family, but—I don’t know. Maybe at that point I’m just wired and fed up by the holiday frenzy to actually enjoy it surrounded by a large crowd? Although…I—maybe I—” Dean moved his leg.

Castiel listened. “You what?”

“Maybe I just got used to it after my parents—it didn’t use to be like this. And that first Christmas, when it was just Sam, Granddad and me, we had a quiet Christmas. Just to ourselves. We didn’t want to over do it. And I suppose…it kinda stayed that way after that. Not that I minded. I really didn’t.”

Castiel reflected on Dean’s comment. He turned his head to the side and watched Dean carefully. “Is that why you wanted to come here? You wanted to escape Henry’s absence at the ranch?”

There was a short pause and Dean said, “Maybe that’s part of it, yes. But I don’t think it’s the main reason. I mean, nostalgia is hitting me hard here too. But I had been meaning to come back here for a while, like I said.”

Although Dean was speaking in a low voice and was purposely staring at the ceiling to avoid Castiel’s eyes, he didn’t appear to be upset.

“And I wanted to spend Christmas with you. I think Granddad would have been happy that we were here.”

“I think so too.”

“I, um, also wanted to not be distracted by the ranch. Like we did on our getaway.”

“So…does this mean that this here counts as a vacation?” said Castiel, amused.

“I suppose it could. It is away from the ranch, and it’s just us.”

Castiel squinted at him. He returned his focus on to the ceiling.

“I don’t think it counts,” said Castiel, smiling. “As a vacation, I mean. Although I am enjoying this immensely.”

“So what you’re saying is that we’re gonna have to plan another vacation. Even if this is nice.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, then. I guess we’ll have to get on that.”

“It appears so.”

They both remained still, aware of each other’s grins growing on their faces. They rested in that fashion calmly for long minutes. The comforting weight of the blankets was making Castiel feel sleepy. His eyelids were becoming heavier.

“Merry Christmas, Cas.”

“Merry Christmas, Dean.”

And Castiel shut his eyes, inviting sleep, as he felt Dean’s warm arm against his.

Early in the morning, when it was still dark, Castiel was woken up briefly when he felt the mattress shifting.

He lifted his head, and with his eyes barely open, he discerned Dean standing in the kitchen.

“I’m just going to check on the horses,” he whispered to him.

“Do you need help?”

“No. It won’t take long. Go back to sleep.”

Castiel hesitated a moment, but quickly let his head drop on his pillow, and pulled the blankets to his chin.

When he woke up again later, the sun was shining this time, and Dean was sleeping peacefully next to him, lying on his back, with his head turned slightly towards Castiel.

Castiel, after stealing a few minutes to study him sleeping, slid himself off the bed as delicately as possible, keeping his eyes on Dean, making sure to not wake him. The floor was dreadfully cold, so he put on a pair of thick sleepers and hurried to the bathroom, quiet as a mouse.

When he exited the bathroom, however, even though he pushed the door slowly as to not make it squeal, he found Dean already up and about, fixing the pull-out bed into a couch again.

“Did I wake you?”

Dean shook his head. “Woke up and you weren’t there. I saw the bathroom door was closed, so…”

Castiel nodded. Castiel wrapped his arms around himself tightly, shivering from the cold air.

“Here,” said Dean. He stepped towards Castiel and cloaked him in a thick blanket. “Can you get the fire going again?” asked Dean. “That will warm us up a bit and we’ll be able to start on breakfast. I’ll just double check the stables is still warm. It was this morning when I checked, but considering how nippy it is right now…”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.”

The rest of the morning was of a slow pace. After Dean was satisfied with the condition of the stables, he fed the horses as Castiel revived the fire, warming up the place.

They kept an eye on their slow cooking breakfast (eggs and bacon, with toast), as they began watching a couple episodes of _Dr. Sexy, M.D_.

They took their time getting dressed. They even simply just relaxed sitting on the couch, next to each other, and listening to the wood crackling.

They weren’t in any hurry.

Around lunchtime, however, they decided to go out. From the hatch beneath the floor, Dean retrieved two pairs of skis, poles and boots.

Even though the air had been cold when they had woken up, it wasn’t as frigid outside as they had feared. They still dressed properly.

It was a beautiful day with the sun shining high and the perfect weather for an outdoor activity.

Castiel was an experienced skier, although he hadn’t done so in many years.

Cross-country skiing, however, turned out to be more physically demanding than he remembered. He figured his age had probably something to do with that—a fact that he pressed himself to not dwell too much on.

Dean directed them by memory down a path he remembered taking as a child. While most of the snow was of a fluffy thin layer, it was also deep in certain spots, which made it harder for them at times.

The fresh air did them well, and just like their morning, they took their time. They didn’t hurry and took many breaks along the way. Especially when one of them had inadvertently fallen down.

While the other one laughed.

Dean’s memories proved to be exact as they eventually reached a mini shelter where they could sit and relax for a short period of time. They shared a cup of warm coffee from the thermos, and a few of Jessica’s cookies they had brought along with them.

Castiel closed his eyes, breathing in the fresh air and listening to the tranquil environment, as he absorbed its rawness. When he opened his eyes again, he found Dean watching him with what Castiel could not describe as anything else but eyes filled with endearment.

When they eventually left the shelter, Castiel was surprised to see Dean heading past it. He was expecting to return by the way they had came.

“I thought you said we were going back?”

“We are,” he said, beaming at him. “If we continue that way, like I remember, it will lead us back to the cabin. It will actually be faster that way.”

Castiel frowned and looked behind him.

“You don’t trust me?” said Dean, amused.

“You know I do. I just hadn’t realized we were going in a circle.”

Just as Dean had promised, they finally reached the cabin under half the time it had taken them to arrive at the shelter.

It was late afternoon. The cabin was still warm. They tended to the horses. Dave Mather, it seemed, was particularly famished, as he immediately nibbled on the hay the moment Castiel brought it in.

While Dean was cleaning out Elliot Ness’ stall, Castiel was brushing the horse’s coat and telling him about their afternoon, notably that Dean had fallen on his butt no less than five times, which made Dean chuckle as he finished his task.

Once back inside, Dean fixed the fireplace near the bed, and warmed up slices of ham with mashed potatoes. As they waited for their meal to be ready, they took turns taking very quick showers (knowing they had limited hot water to spare).

Wearing comfortable sweatpants, thick wool socks and jumpers, they ate their lunch hastily, and then both dropped on the bed, exhausted.

“I feel like everything is going to hurt tomorrow.”

“Yup.”

They remained silent for a moment.

“We should continue the show. Or the book. I brought it.”

“Yes, let’s do that,” said Dean. “I was looking forward to that.”

But neither moved.

“You get it.”

Dean snorted. “I don’t think I can.”

Castiel lifted his head and spotted the book resting on the coffee table.

“I don’t think I can either.”

“That is incredibly lazy of you,” said Dean, amused.

“I know. What a disappointment I must be to you.”

With what seemed like a great effort on his part, Castiel pulled the thick blanket over them.

Dean turned to his side, and said in a jovial manner, “You have no idea.”

And slowly, they quite inexplicably fell asleep.

When Castiel opened his eyes again, the room was dark. And the fire was almost dead.

He felt warm and perfectly reposed.

And he was all snuggled up underneath a thick faux fur and soft blanket. He remained perfectly still, wishing to not disrupt his state of utter comfort.

He then noticed Dean’s head rested against his shoulder. And their feet were touching. Like they had wanted to keep themselves warm.

He didn’t move a muscle, and though his heartbeat quickened, he still felt extremely serene. He contemplated the idea of pulling Dean closer to him.

That was until Dean let out a loud snore, and Castiel couldn’t contain his laughter.

Dean woke up confused.

“Why are you laughing?” he said in a rough voice. He still remained in his position.

“You. Snoring. Loudly.”

“What?” He lifted himself to properly look at him. “I don’t snore.”

Castiel burst into laughter. “No?” said Castiel. “I’m afraid I have bad news for you.”

“Shut up, I don’t,” said Dean, almost grumpily, lying on his stomach.

“It’s usually softer than that,” Castiel told him. Dean gazed upon him.

“Sorry. Must be annoying. You should have told me.”

“I don’t mind it. That’s how I know you’re there.”

Dean lowered his eyes.

“What time is it?”

“I don’t know. But it’s dark. So, after five at least. Probably much later than that.”

The moonlight cast the shadow on the ceiling of fat snowflakes falling outside.

“It’s snowing.”

Dean followed Castiel’s eyes, and said, “I have an idea.”

With the weather still mild, despite the sun having set, they stayed in their comfy clothes, only adding on boots and warm sweaters instead of their massive winter coats.

In the stables, Dean approached Elliot Ness’ box. Castiel, wanting to help, headed to Dave Mather, but Dean said, “Let’s just take Elliot Ness.”

Castiel frowned. “You mean, um—”

“Come on,” said Dean calmly. He instructed Castiel to hand him one of the blankets, and bridle. “And no saddle,” he said, petting Eliott Ness’ neck.

Ready, they left the stables walking with Elliot Ness, leaving Dave Mather safe and warm in his stall.

With a firm grip on the rein and bridle, Dean extended his arm to help Castiel climb on.

But he stayed put.

“Won’t that be a lot for Elliot Ness? We aren’t ten anymore.”

Dean laughed.

“He’ll be okay. I know Dave Mather wouldn’t have been too keen on it, but this guy here, I know he’s good for it. We won’t be gone for long and we’ll go slow.”

Castiel bit his lip.

“He’ll be okay. I promise.”

Trusting Dean, he grabbed his hand and with his help and instruction on where to put his footing, he managed—to his surprise—to successfully climb on Elliot Ness. Dean told him to slide himself a little backwards, so it would be better for the horse, and then Dean, in his turn, climbed on the horse with agility, sitting in front of Castiel.

Unlike his, Dean’s balance was unwavering. Dean lifted his arms, to facilitate Castiel holding on to him. He gripped Dean by his waist at first, but Dean quickly repositioned his hands around him instead, for better hold.

And they rode off under the moonlight, while thick snowflakes were dancing around. Trying his best to not feel self-conscious about where his hands were, or the position they were in, Castiel focused his attention to the scenery, while still evidently holding on firmly to Dean in fear of falling.

And it was so beautiful. There was no wind to be heard, only the soft snow crunching under Elliot Ness’ hoofs, and just as it had been earlier that day, the serenity of the surroundings was soothing.

But at night, it had a mystical element to it.

Dean started humming a soft Christmas melody and Castiel went along with him. “Elliot Ness is going to hate us.”

“What? He loves it when I sing.”

They continued a little further on, in between the giant trees, until they reached a small meadow, and came to halt. Dean looked up at the moon and slowly directed Elliot Ness to step forward a bit, only to stop him again.

“Hold on,” said Dean, and carefully, and remaining steady on the horse, he pulled out his phone from his sweater.

“Where did you even put this?” asked Castiel, laughing.

“It has a small pocket,” he said defensively. “It barely fit, but whatever.” With Castiel leaning his head closer to Dean’s, he managed to take a nice picture of them.

He put his phone away, and slowly turned the horse around.

On their way back, Castiel soon rested his chin on Dean’s shoulder, as he tightened his grip around Dean’s stomach even more.

And Dean gently rested one hand on Castiel’s.

Castiel shut his eyes and buried his face at the back of Dean’s neck, enjoying this perfect moment of bliss.

Once they were back, they both took care of Elliot Ness. They didn’t say anything, but not because it was awkward or uncomfortable. Castiel couldn’t stop smiling and so was Dean.

They had no idea what time it was, and frankly they didn’t care. Castiel’s chest felt light. And despite the probably late hour, he didn’t feel tired, but rather rested. If not rejuvenated.

And once everything was in order, they slowly made their way back inside. Dean only lit up one small light on his nightstand. More than that would have almost felt aggressive to their eyes in the calm state they were both in.

As Castiel tended to the fire in the fireplace and added on a few blankets at the end of the bed for good measure, Dean busied himself by warming up the milk on the stove, suddenly craving hot cocoa.

Castiel was already under the covers, and without uttering a word, he observed Dean stirring the milk and humming across the room.

When the milk was to his liking, Dean prepared the hot cocoa, still humming. He then approached the bed slowly, bringing with him both mugs, which Castiel took hold of, giving Dean a chance to get rid of his footwear and to climb on the bed.

Resting their heads on the headboard, they sat calmly side by side, and drank their hot cocoa, adding on to their euphoric state.

“Did you have fun?” asked Dean.

“Yes. That was amazing.”

“I always wanted to do that.”

“Ride in the middle of the night in the dead of winter?”

“No,” said Dean in a low voice. He took a sip of his drink and said, “Taking a midnight stroll by horse with you.”

Keeping his head still, Castiel moved his eyes sideways towards Dean.

“I always wanted to do that when we were kids,” continued Dean. “During the summers, there were so many times when I thought, okay tonight, when it’s late and when everyone is asleep, I’ll go find Cas and we’ll go. I knew that if we got caught out of bed and far away from the ranch, horse or not, we’d get in trouble. But I always wanted to do that.”

“Why didn’t you?” He took a sip of his hot cocoa.

“I never managed to stay up that late. Every time I tried, I always fell asleep and woke up the next morning.”

Castiel laughed.

Done with their drinks, Castiel took his and Dean’s mug, and put them away on his nightstand. Dean turned off the light, leaving only the crackling fire and the moon as a source of light.

Castiel took a quick trip to the bathroom, and when he came back, Dean was lying on his side with his eyes shut. Castiel delicately climbed back in and sank himself deep under the covers, next to Dean.

Castiel’s eyes lingered on Dean’s face. On his cheeks. And rosy lips. To his firm jawline and down to his neck.

Partially relieved that Dean was sleeping, Castiel, remaining calm, shifted onto his back and took a deep breath. A few minutes passed, and curiosity got the better of him, he turned his head once more to glance at the man resting next to him.

And he found Dean exactly how he had left him, only his eyes were wide open.

Their eyes locked on each other.

Castiel knew he could have easily spent the rest of the night staring back at Dean.

And with the look Dean was returning him, a look that rendered Castiel restless, Dean had never been so inviting than in that instant.

Castiel smoothly turned his hips, and rolled himself onto his side, fully facing Dean again. And while they weren’t touching, still respecting that invisible line between them, they were much closer than before. Their noses were practically touching. And the only reason skin contact wasn’t occurring was because Castiel was specifically keeping his hands to himself.

How easy it would be, he thought, to simply reach out for Dean’s hand under the covers. To gently brush his feet against his. To caress his waist with his fingertips. To pull himself closer in order to feel Dean’s warmth against him, just like they had on their promenade.

And with every second passing, resisting that temptation was becoming grueling.

There was something in the air and Dean was feeling it too.

And even though he felt exhilarated, Castiel didn’t feel anxious. He still felt calm. Deeply yearning, and this exponentially with every moment passing, yes. But calm, nonetheless.

But neither of them spoke. They simply gazed in each other’s eyes, waiting to see if the one other would dare voice it. Would dare act on it, while being fully aware of the consequences.

Castiel didn’t want to ruin what they had.

He didn’t want to complicate things.

But cozily lying next to Dean, under warm and heavy blankets, with the fire crackling…

After the day they had.

After the last two days they had.

After that moonlight stroll.

It was impossible for his mind to not go there.

It was impossible not to wonder what it could be.

And even after Castiel reminded himself that Dean had most likely done it all simply to render their situation as pleasant and harmonious as he could, it was also impossible not to ponder if that hadn’t been what Dean had desired all along.

Dean had always been kind and generous, and while Castiel had never considered himself an expert wherever romantic relationships were concerned, he was pretty sure that Dean wouldn’t have done all this for someone he didn’t care about.

But _pretty sure _wasn’t being certain enough, though, he thought.

Castiel stirred a little closer. Taking another good look at Dean, he lifted his hand, gripped the covers, and fixed them properly over Dean’s shoulders. He then, with only one soft stroke, fondled Dean’s temple up to his hairline with his fingers. Dean shut his eyes immediately at Castiel’s touch. The moment it was over, he swallowed, and carefully opened his eyes, holding his breath as Castiel was staring at him.

Castiel needed to do something.

“Dean,” he said in a low voice, leaning in, “I thin—”

“Cas, can I ask you a stupid question?” blurted out Dean, as he cut him off.

Castiel stopped and withdrew himself slightly.

“It’s the rule. You know you can. And there are no stupid questions.”

Dean swallowed again, diverting his eyes. “Why—how come you’re not married?”

Castiel frowned.

Because Castiel hadn’t answered, Dean added, “I told you it was stupid.”

“It’s not,” Castiel assured him. “It’s just—I was under the impression that I was—_am_—married. To _you_.”

“Right. Okay, but—you know. I mean like…before.”

“Why do you ask?”

“I’m just curious.”

Not sure what to say, Castiel replied, “I guess it just hadn’t happen.”

Dean lowered his eyes.

“Because you didn’t want to?”

Not particularly thrilled with the topic of discussion, but resolute to not lie, Castiel took in a deep breath. “I’m not opposed to it, if that’s what you mean. But marriage has never really been something I aspired for that deeply. Why do you ask, Dean?”

Dean turned on his back.

“Dean?”

“When Granddad came back from his trip and told me he ran into you, he had that face like, sit down Dean and let me tell you what your old pal has been up to so far. And I was expecting the _speech_. I was like, all right, here it comes. I’m going to hear all about how this guy has figured out everything, how you were doing brilliantly like everybody else. Married with children, doing what he loves and thrives for, living comfortably and happily. Travelling. I was sure of it, because to me, how could you not have all that? It was like instantaneous, that’s how I saw you: happy, rested and having everything you ever deserved. What he told me was not at all what I was expecting, and since then, I—I don’t understand how that’s not the case. Unless if it would have been your choice.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s necessarily by choice, no,” said Castiel. “I have crazy hours, and living in a city of millions, where it’s easy to get swallowed up whole, the only people I truly interact with are my colleagues, and even then. I live in a shoe box, with a last name that honestly makes people treat me like a leper.”

Dean pursed his lips. He stirred his head as if he was about to protest, but remained quiet.

“The same could be said about you, Dean. Between the two of us, you’re the one I’m very surprised wasn’t already married.”

“Me?” snorted Dean. “How in the world could I have ever managed that? The ranch is my life. Always has been. The responsibility, the pressure and the hours don’t really leave time for anything else.”

Castiel sighed and turned to him. “Are you running this place on your own?”

“No, obviously, but—”

“So that means that you can take a break for yourself, once in a while.”

“Even then, Cas. Everyone here is like family. And we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“Dean,” said Castiel, laughing. “The town isn’t that far. And you run a ranch. Not only do you have year-long tenants, but you also have new travelers who visit constantly.”

“You want me to sleep with my clients?”

“I was more referring in terms of meeting someone. But now that you’ve mentioned it, you’re seriously telling me that never happened before?”

Dean turned towards Castiel.

“Um. No, it didn’t. That’s not—” He then cleared his throat, and with an obvious attempt to change the topic, he said, “Have you ever slept with a guest at the hotel?”

Castiel opened his mouth and shut it. “No. Of course not.”

Dean squinted. “Uh-huh. Want to try that again?” Castiel detected a teasing tone in his voice. <strike></strike>

“I—okay, wait. It wasn’t like that. This makes me sound incredibly unprofessional. It wasn’t like I showed up in a guest’s room.”

“Then how did it happen?”

“You don’t really want to know this, do you?”

“Oh, I definitely _need _to know this.”

Castiel took a deep breath. He bit his lip and looked at Dean who was watching him, awaiting his story. “There’s nothing much to say about it, really.”

“The fact that you’re stalling is adorable and makes me want to hear it even more.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “Be ready to be disappointed by this totally un-thrilling tale.” He glanced at Dean.

“I’m waiting.”

Castiel groaned. “It was the Fourth of July weekend, a few years ago.”

“I like it already.”

“Dean.”

“Sorry. But it’s true.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Hannah and I were in a good phase, so much that we were, um, it seemed like—”

“You could become more serious,” Dean suggested.

“Yes. And because of that, we had talked about spending an entire weekend away specifically for that.”

“Given the story I’m suppose to hear, I’m guessing it didn’t work out,” said Dean grimly.

“No. Hannah hadn’t been able to take time off, so, wanting to be supportive, as I thought that’s where we were heading, I agreed to work the holiday as well, thinking we could simply take another weekend off instead. But then Hannah managed to get time off at the last minute after all, and because I had agreed to stay—well, long story short, she had her holiday weekend, just not with me.”

Dean stared at him.

“You mean she just went off on her own somewhere or—”

“She went off with someone else when I couldn’t.”

“When you had stayed for—” Dean took a deep breath. “I’m—I’m sorry. I don’t want to speak against her, but I would have been pissed.”

“I was,” said Castiel, “but not at her. This was our thing, and I was mad at myself for believing that—” Castiel paused a moment and cleared his throat. “Anyway, we, um, spoke briefly, and now that it was clear where we stood…I worked my shift grumpily. Because I didn’t want to go back to my empty apartment, I agreed to stick around for the staff celebration. I was hoping that the company would cheer me up. It was a mistake. In the late hour of the night, tired and still sulking, I got the very poor idea to wander to the third-floor bar.”

Dean frowned.

“I knew it would be closed at that time,” explained Castiel. “And due to—um, some of the states my co-workers had been in, I had been given the charge of safe-keeping the keys. So I went in, hoping I would be left alone. But a guest showed up. I was about to turn him around, but it was only one guest. Everyone else in charge was gone. No one was around. I thought serving him one lousy drink in the middle of the night wouldn’t change anything. But, um—we started talking and the drinks were no longer a priority.”

“You followed him to his room.”

Castiel opened his mouth. “No. Not exactly.”

Dean laughed. “Not at the bar?”

“It started at the bar, but—”

“But what?”

Castiel bit his lip, trying to hold his grin.

“Cas?”

“It—um, we had a second round in back room.”

Dean gaped at him.

“What? He was handsome,” said Castiel defensively.

“I bet he was more than just handsome for having another go. Was he a rich traveling businessman?”

Castiel snorted. “No. Why do you think he was a businessman?”

“I—no reason,” said Dean, lowering his eyes. “So, um who was he then?”

“He was a sailor.”

Dean burst into laughing. “Shut the fuck up. You’re making this up.”

“I’m not.”

“Did you ever see him again?”

“No. Of course, not. It wasn’t…it wasn’t like that.”

Dean nodded, biting his inside cheek.

“You kept your job, so I’m assuming you didn’t get in trouble?”

“No. My friend caught me though. Not, like—I mean he walked by the entrance of the bar as we were exiting. Apparently it was written all over my face.”

“That good, huh?” said Dean, chuckling. “Any other time the guests were of good company?”

“No. That was the only time.”

“And what happened with Hannah?”

“Nothing. She came back from her trip and we just stayed what we always were. We got better. We always do get better, but—” Castiel ended his sentence there, knowing he didn’t need to say more.

Dean thought for a moment, and then asked, “What about before Hannah? Dating, I mean. Like when you were in high school and stuff.”

“No one serious in high school. Neither during my studies. I’ve had a few flings here and there, but I told you, my family background eventually catches up to me. I’ve always made a point to not get too attached. What about you?”

“There’s not much to tell.”

“I’d still like to hear about it.”

“In terms of relationships,” said Dean, sighing, “pretty sure there’s only one that counted. It was in high school. Her name was Robin, and she was nice and had character.” Dean smiled fondly. “But it was short-lived. Then,” he said, taking in a deep breath, “I—there was this guy in college. We did have a thing but—I don’t think that counts.”

“On and off? Like Hannah?”

“No,” said Dean grimly. “Not like Hannah. He wasn’t—it doesn’t count. That’s my point.”

Castiel didn’t like how detrimental Dean had made it sound.

“Then I came back here, and kept busy with the ranch.”

“And after that?”

Dean cleared his throat and returned his gaze to the ceiling.

“Dean?”

“Nothing much.”

“But something?”

“You’re not going to be very impressed by this.”

Castiel studied Dean attentively for a few seconds, puzzled at his last comment. “You do realize I just told you something that probably should have gotten me fired, right?”

“That’s not the same.”

“No judgment on my part, Dean.”

Dean remained silent, which only increased Castiel’s apprehension.

“I promise.”

Castiel was beginning to think that Dean would keep this one to himself, when he said, finally, “There’s this bar.” He still looked straight at the ceiling. “It’s next to a small hotel, not far from the airport. Just people passing through. Businessmen, mostly.”

“Businessmen,” repeated Castiel, remembering Dean’s earlier comment.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“I went there not long after I was done with school. I was actually there to meet someone from school that night. They had a connecting flight, but it got delayed until the next morning. Anyway, we had a few beers. We caught up, you know, usual stuff. An hour or two after, we called it a night because he was jet lagged and he thought he should have a bit of shuteye while he could. My friend left after I assured him I’d take care of the tab, and just as I was about to leave, some guy offered me a drink and—you know.”

Castiel remained silent, listening to his story.

“Nothing out of the ordinary. But I realized when I—not the next morning, but just _after_, I went to the bathroom and I—I saw his wedding ring by the sink.”

Castiel shut his eyes.

“I felt guilty at first. Even if I hadn’t known. Even if—it’s not like I was expecting this to turn into anything. I knew what it was. I had no delusion about it. And I was okay with that, but—and then, I don’t know why, but I returned to the bar a few weeks later. Not because I was meeting someone and certainly not because I thought he’d be there. Just to get a drink and it—that’s what I do. Every once in a while, when it gets too—I go there. I never initiate it. I make a point of not asking too many questions. And it, um, always ends up the same way. One short encounter with someone I’ll never see again.” 

Castiel didn’t know what to say. He evidently didn’t have any problem with Dean keeping things casual. If that was his prerogative, just as Castiel had done himself, he had the right to do so and there wasn’t anything wrong with that. Even if mistakes had been made—something that no one could be impervious to—Castiel would never have judged him (or anyone else) for that.

But the way Dean had told his story, how he hadn’t been so keen on sharing it, not because it was private, but rather because he was ashamed of it, that distressed Castiel deeply.

It led him to believe that Dean wasn’t keeping things casual because he wished to or even enjoyed it. On the contrary, the sorrow in his voice strongly suggested that he not only disliked limiting himself to brief encounters with strangers, but also, by keeping on acting it despite that fact, Dean seemed to believe that was only what he deserved. Almost as if he was punishing himself, and Castiel couldn’t understand why.

“Cas? Are you—what are you thinking?”

Castiel felt a pang in his chest at the idea that Dean even worried he would think poorly of him.

“I think you’re too harsh on yourself, Dean. That’s what I’m thinking.”

“I’m not sure about that, Cas. I mean—”

“Dean,” said Castiel, cutting him off. He had said it firmly, but not angrily. “You need to cut yourself some slack. I really wish that you’d stop thinking you’re undes—unsuitable.” Castiel rested his hand again to Dean’s cheek. “You’re not. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Dean, diverting his gaze, slowly reached out for Castiel’s hand. Moving it away from his face, he held it a moment, grazing it with his thumb.

“Says the guy who, for a reason I’ll never understand, keeps insisting that he’s less than what he is because of his family name.”

And after a faint squeeze, Dean gently moved Castiel’s hand back to Castiel’s side of the bed, making sure they weren’t touching anymore, and without completely turning his back on him, he twisted himself on his side so Castiel wouldn’t be able to see his face.

And that was that, thought Castiel. If they ever had a moment, this was it, and Dean had given him his answer.

A few minutes passed, and Castiel decided he needed to say at least one more thing to clear the air.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“Can we do this again? A midnight stroll? Doesn’t need to be with only one horse, but just—but before…before the winter ends?” Castiel stared at the back of Dean’s head, awaiting his answer.

“Any time you want, Cas.”

“Good. I really enjoyed that.”

“As far as Christmas goes, was that okay?” he whispered.

“It was perfect.”

“No—no complaints?”

Castiel lowered his eyes a moment and said, “This will no doubt be one of my all-time favourite. So, no. No complaints, Dean.”

“Me too, Cas.”


	8. Conflicts and Confessions

To everyone’s displeasure, January arrived with biting winds. After their private Christmas, Castiel and Dean had opted to celebrate New Year’s Eve with Sam and Jessica who were planning on going to a party in the next town over.

Unfortunately, the weather altered their plans. Unlike the mild weather they had been blessed with at Christmas, New Year’s Eve brought in a storm with strong winds and a heavy snowfall. Castiel and Dean had therefore been constrained to the ranch. Despite the storm, however, they still managed to have a proper celebration with everyone else confined at the ranch.

They laughed and danced with everyone. And cheered and did the countdown gleefully.

But no New Year’s kiss had been exchanged. Only an affectionate “Happy New Year,” between the two, and an awkward embrace in the middle of the highly-spirited crowd.

After Christmas, Castiel and Dean walked around each other on eggshells. Resolute to act as though nothing was wrong, they started discussing their trip, hoping it would get rid of the weird vibe between them.

In part, to Castiel’s astonishment, it worked. After a session of brainstorming and detailed research online, it came down between Austin and San Antonio, and eventually, after looking it up, Dean suggested that perhaps they could extend their trip a day or two and visit both destinations, as they were only an hour drive away from each other.

Castiel reminded Dean that both locations were in Texas, and in doing so, their trip would then become much longer than a simple weekend.

Unless, that was, they left Montana by plane.

“I know,” said Dean. “That’s what I was thinking we’d do. We could rent a car in Austin to drive to San Antonio and we—we’ll fly to go there and back. I’m—I’m okay with that.”

Castiel hadn’t been overly convinced by that statement.

“I’ll be okay,” he repeated. “I’ll say if there’s a problem. And I’m trying meditation like Dr. Vallens suggested. And, um, other stuff too.”

Castiel had kept his promise after their first trip and had done research in the hope of helping Dean with his panic attacks.

It hadn’t been effortless, mostly because he had still thought Dean had ought to speak to a professional instead of listening to whatever random information Castiel had read online, no matter how helpful it had been.

Having known full well he evidently couldn’t (or shouldn’t) force Dean into therapy if he didn’t want to, Castiel couldn’t help but feel like he had failed Dean in that endeavor.

For all Dean’s protests, Castiel had, nonetheless, begun researching recommendations for professional help accessible to them. He had no intentions of nagging Dean with this information, but at the very least, he had thought he could be ready to suggest a few names if Dean changed his mind or if the situation worsened.

Unexpectedly, Dean had broached the subject right before the New Year—perhaps due to the New Year resolutions discussion they had—and Castiel had been happy to help him.

Dean had made an appointment with Dr. Vallens, who actually resided in town, as fast as he could. Everything had gone well on his first session, which was incredibly encouraging, and Dean had agreed to continue seeing Dr. Vallens on a weekly basis.

The fact that Dean was suggesting destinations outside the state and to go by plane was a huge improvement, so much so, that Castiel almost thought it was too good to be true.

“I don’t want you to push yourself too hard, Dean.”

But Dean stubbornly shook his head and said, “I want to do this.”

Castiel took a deep breath. “Okay, but you’re allowed to change your mind. You have to promise me if that happens or even you grow anxious about it, you’ll tell me. Deal?”

“I promise.”

They agreed to take their next trip at the beginning of February.

Without stating it, Castiel thought they had purposely settled on this time to avoid the mid-February Valentine’s Day vibe on their trip. But Castiel was happy with their choice, as it would then allow them to celebrate Dean’s birthday at the ranch, and perhaps on their own in the following weeks as well.

Furthermore, because they hadn’t done much during Christmas or New Year’s Eve, and their next holiday wouldn’t be until a month’s time, Dean apparently felt guilty for having secluded Castiel at the ranch for months.

“I don’t mind, Dean. Don’t worry about it.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I—that’s why I was kind of hoping for New Year’s Eve, but that…Anyway, the reason why I’m mentioning this is because I have an idea.”

“What’s that?”

“Since we can’t leave the ranch because of work, how about some of your friends come and visit you here instead? Like Hannah and Balthazar. Or someone else too. Whoever you’d like.”

Castiel flinched. “You mean here at the ranch?”

“Yeah. It probably wouldn’t be for long, as I’m sure everyone is busy, but they could fly in and stay a couple of days. We obviously have lots of room and their trip would be paid, no problem. What do you think?”

“Dean, that would be great, but you know you don’t have to do this, right? I’m fine, I promise.”

Dean pursed his lips. “I know. I just—we’re halfway through the six months now,” which Castiel had difficulty believing in that moment, “and I know you still talk to your friends and everything, but maybe seeing them would help too. I—I know the weather has been harsh lately. You don’t go outside as much as you used too before Christmas. I don’t know. I thought it would cheer you up.”

Although Castiel greatly appreciated the gesture, he also highly suspected Dean to be orchestrating this whole thing to distract them from whatever tension there was between them.

The truth was that, since they had come back from the cabin, just like when they had come back from their first trip, Dean seemed distant. He wasn’t ignoring him, nor was he avoiding him, but Castiel couldn’t help but feel like Dean was purposely keeping his distance from him.

He tried his best to not feel paranoid and not read too much into it, but the overtone of courtesy and self-awareness was flagrant.

Castiel understood that, sooner or later, if things continued in that direction, he would have to address the issue, while knowing full well how disastrous the consequences could be.

It was, after all, specifically for that reason that neither of them was confronting the matter and they acted as if nothing was wrong.

Be that as it was, Castiel knew better than to hope it would magically fade away.

He understood that Dean was attempting to reset the balance by inviting Castiel’s friends over, so he decided to test that option first.

Not even bothering to reach out to his siblings, as the concept alone sounded like pure folly to him, Castiel immediately contacted a few of his friends to see who could be available to pay him a visit. He sent out messages to a bunch of people, mostly living in the city, and was eager to hear back how everyone else was doing.

The first two who replied were Balthazar and Hannah, of course. He doubted they would be able to step away from their job very long, but considering the entire trip would be paid, he thought that perhaps that possibility wasn’t completely impossible.

While Balthazar, to his great regret, was in the impossibility for such a trip at that moment (a fact that had made Balthazar incredibly grumpy), Hannah, however, merrily informed Castiel that she could.

Everyone else who had taken the time to reply were, like Balthazar, unfortunately not able to distance themselves from work.

He was very grateful that Hannah, at the very least, was in the capacity to do so.

That being said, because it had been short notice, Hannah wouldn’t be able to leave until the end of January. Castiel wondered if Dean would still agree with that arrangement, as the two days Hannah could spare were smack in between Dean’s birthday and their next trip.

But Dean had absolutely no problem with that settlement, and told Castiel he was very happy Castiel would be able to see a familiar face and that he was looking forward to finally meeting Hannah after all this time.

And Castiel knew he had genuinely meant it.

Thus, Castiel had now multiple events to anticipate at the end of the month. All this would have been enough for him to stop worrying, but another concern caught his attention: Naomi.

Even more so than she had been before the holidays, Naomi was incredibly brief in her check-in emails at the beginning of the month. While he hoped it was residual from the tiresome holidays, Castiel was wondering if something was amiss.

Trusting that if there was an issue Naomi would have voiced it, he decided to put it out of his mind, just like the rest of his worries, and focus on his work at the ranch.

A few days after Dean’s birthday, which they had celebrated with Sam and Jessica at a nice restaurant in town, Castiel was informed of Hannah’s arrival in the middle of the afternoon. Despite that he had been scheduled for a day off, he had spent most of the morning helping out the staff in the main building.

A massive family reunion—a group of nearly thirty members—was to celebrate the great-grandparents in one of the main rooms, while the other was hosting a ten year college reunion.

Between helping setting up the rooms and the tables, and making sure there weren’t any overall issues with the rooms they were staying in, it had been an incredibly busy day.

Guests were soon to be arriving, but Donna assured him that they had greatly appreciated his assistance, and now that his friend had arrived, he was excused for the rest of the day.

Feeling odd to leave everyone in this seeming chaos, he nonetheless rushed to the house, where Donna had brought Hannah.

Dean and Castiel had long debated where Hannah should reside during her stay. Evidently, if it would have been anyone else, they would have simply let her sleep in the guest room, no questions asked.

But they both found that the situation was a little more complicated than that.

Even though Castiel and Hannah were on good terms now, she hadn’t been exactly thrilled with the situation at the beginning, and for a good reason.

And this had been why Castiel hadn’t divulged to her, unlike Balthazar, every detail regarding his agreement with Dean either.

If they allowed Hannah to stay in the house, a few details would evidently not escape her notice. Like their sleeping arrangement. On the other hand, nothing was happening between Castiel and Dean, and surely, she would also notice this important detail.

So they kept repeating to themselves.

In the end, they had decided to prepare for either eventuality. Castiel was to spend the day with Hannah, showing her the house and the ranch, while they could catch up with each other, and Dean was to join them in the evening at the house to share their usual meal. Depending on Hannah’s vibe, they would then decide if it would be best for her to stay in a room in the main building or at the house.

Castiel truly hoped it would be the latter, and given she had been kind enough to come and visit, he believed it conveyed Hannah’s view of the situation.

Rushing to the house in the bitter cold, he felt anxiety spread through his chest. They had only spoken briefly over the phone since he had last seen her, and he had to admit that he had missed her tremendously.

Hannah served as a reminder of his life waiting for him in New York, and seeing her would bring him relief that he wasn’t forgotten over there as well. Beside Balthazar, her and Naomi, very few of his friends sent replies to his texts or emails any more. Castiel knew everyone was busy and that he shouldn’t take it too personally, but he couldn’t help but feel somewhat left out and ignored whenever that occurred.

But Hannah was here. That was something.

He finally reached the house, burst through the door, and saw Hannah waiting for him in the living room, observing the mantel of the giant fireplace.

She turned around when she heard the door and looked at him, smiling. She was wearing a pale blue dress and her hair was down. By the looks of it, thought Castiel, her hair was longer.

He shed his coat and walked towards her.

“Hannah, hello. I—you’re here. I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Same.”

“It’s good to see you.”

“I had to see for myself what the fuss was all about,” she said teasingly.

She wrapped her arms around him to give him a big hug. She smelled exactly the same. A mixture of vanilla and cherry.

“How was the trip?” he asked, once they let go of each other.

“Fine. No problem. No delays.”

“Are you hungry?”

She shook her head. They stood awkwardly for a moment, and then Hannah said, “I love the house. Can I have a tour?”

Castiel happily obliged with her request. He hadn’t stated where he slept, but he clearly identified the rooms as “Dean’s bedroom” and “the guest room.”

As they walked around the house, however, one thing became very clear for Castiel about Hannah.

She looked out of place.

Which he thought was an odd observation on his part.

And yet, he couldn’t help but think it. She didn’t fit in this place. Looking at her standing in this house reminded him of the feeling he got when he accidentally stuck his left foot into his right shoe.

After their mini tour was over, they returned to their initial spot, namely in front of the fireplace.

She hadn’t said anything negative, but it came to Castiel’s attention that she hadn’t said anything overly positive either.

Wanting to help Hannah feel comfortable, he then suggested that he should make some tea, while he could hear how her holidays had been and what was new with her.

After briefly eyeing the kitchen and asking her what tea she would like, Castiel turned around and saw that Hannah was slowly unbuttoning her dress.

“Um, Han—what—what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

The dress fell on the floor.

She was completely naked. No underwear, just her, completely at ease, naked in front of him.

And Castiel couldn’t stop staring at her.

“Hannah…I—”

She advanced slowly towards him. He stood still, making sure to not move a muscle.

“It’s been a while, Cas.” She slid her hands over his chest. “I’ve missed you.” She leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Did you miss me?”

Castiel swallowed. “Yes.”

“How much?”

She slid one hand over his crotch, palming him.

“Hannah, wait—I—I,” and he let out a moan.

“How long has it been? Too long I think.”

And she was right.

It had been too long.

He hated saying it, but the celibacy part of the deal was becoming majorly problematic for him, and Castiel was the first one surprised by this. He knew it would have been a challenge, but he had foolishly believed it wouldn’t be that much of a hassle.

While he usually kept things casual, he had never avidly slept around that much either.

But it turned out that not sleeping around because he didn’t feel like it, while still technically having the option, was very different than not doing so because he wasn’t allowed to.

And it was a problem.

And he knew perfectly well he wasn’t the only one struggling with it.

Without meaning to, he had overheard Dean on multiple occasions in the bathroom, early in the morning. He had hurriedly left the bedroom every time it had happened, trying the most he could to erase it from his memories. But to his embarrassment, he had lingered behind a few times as well.

Especially the time when he had thought for half a crazy second that Dean had uttered his name.

Which, Castiel was sure, he hadn’t.

This, along with his dreams, which were still increasing in number and intensity, and Christmas, were all a clear indicator that abstinence was getting to his brain.

And the short reliefs he had allowed himself whenever he could in the shower were quite frankly getting old.

What he was craving was a warm touch. Some skin contact. With affection.

And Hannah was there to finally help him with that.

But he knew he couldn’t do it.

Not only because it was against the rules, but also because it didn’t feel right.

“Hannah, stop.” He grabbed her hands, and pushed her slightly away. “I can’t do this.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m married. I know it’s—but it’s part of the rules. I can’t do this.”

Incredulous at his assertion, she stepped closer and pressed herself against him after a few seconds.

“Are you sure about that?”

He had a moment of hesitation as she guided his hand up to her breasts and licked his collarbone, but he quickly freed himself fom her grasp and stepped away from her. He picked up her dress and handed it to her with a stern look, desperately ignoring the aching below his waist.

“Are you serious, right now?” she asked.

“Yes. I thought you understood that. I have to respect the rules.”

She stared at him harshly. She grabbed her dress and put it on to cover herself quickly.

“Why did you ask me to come here then?”

“I wanted to see you, of course. I miss you.”

“Not that much, apparently,” she said, crossing her arms.

“I do, it’s just—I can’t.”

She opened her mouth and held her stare for a moment.

“Are you fucking him?”

Castiel flinched at her. “What?”

“Are you fucking him?”

“No.”

She examined his face.

“Holy shit. You are, aren’t you?”

“I’m not—Hannah, it’s not—”

“I thought you said this was just fake and all. I knew it was a long shot, but since it was you, I thought, okay. Sure. God, you must have laughed yourself silly thinking how stupid I was to buy your shit.”

“I wasn’t lying. We’re not—I’m not sleeping with him!”

“You mean in that king size bed that you’ve been sharing every night?”

Castiel held his breath.

“What—what do you mean?”

“You’re sharing the bed, right? It’s one of the rules?”

Castiel froze. “How did—”

“So it’s true. Fuck.”

“Hannah, how do you know?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. Considering I only told—” but the rest of his sentence died in his throat.

She stepped closer again. “You only told who, Cas?”

Castiel remained silent.

“Who were you so keen on sharing that detail with when you didn’t even tell _me_?”

Castiel took a deep breath. “Balthazar knew.”

“Of course that fucker would know everything,” she said, shaking her head.

Castiel was about to reproach her for this unfair comment about Balthazar, but then he realized something.

“Wait, he—you didn’t know Balthazar knew?”

“I didn’t know you told him, no.”

“But? What do—how do you know, then? How do you know about that rule? I only told you about living under the same roof, the six months and that it couldn’t be an open marriage.”

“Yeah. You kept a few others to yourself. Is the holiday one true too?”

“Hannah,” he said frantically. “Who told you about the other ones?”

She turned her eyes to him. She lifted her hands around his neck, caressing his cheek with her thumb. She leaned in just enough so he could feel her breath on his lips, but didn’t go further, luring him.

But Castiel gently lowered her hands. “Hannah. Please,” he said. Instead of pushing her off again, he stood still looking straight at her. “Please, tell me who told you this. How do you know this?”

She withdrew her hands away from him and walked to the couch where her purse was.

“I don’t have to tell you anything, Cas. You’re married now, as you keep insisting. I don’t owe you anything.”

She then retrieved a piece of paper from her purse and stared at him.

“But since I’m here, I should probably mention a few things. First off, the identity of who shared that information with me doesn’t really matter, because they weren’t the only ones who told me about it. They just were the first person who did, and I didn’t believe it at first, but now I see they had access to the real info. Not just the rumors. But anyway, everybody knows.”

Castiel frowned. “What rumors? What do you mean everybody?”

“Everybody. Most of them embellished it though. But yes, everyone. Some of my friends heard of your agreement and questioned me about it. People from my work. I even passed by the Lazarus, and I barely had time to say hello, and the next thing I knew, everyone was cornering me about it. But even then, I thought stupidly that it wasn’t true. Then you invited me here. And I thought, I’ll go and see what’s what for myself. But it’s true. Maybe not all of it, but still more than I’d like. Dean bought you off for his little self to do whatever he wanted with you. And you went along with it. _All of it_.”

“That’s not what this is. Not even close. And nothing is going on between us.”

“Right. You just go on holidays with him. Live with him. You sleep with him. I know for a fact that you prefer sleeping naked, Cas. Do you honestly expect me to believe that you stay on your side of the bed like that? That he doesn’t reach out to you in the middle of the night?”

He shook his head. “I don’t sleep naked. Not—”

“Not here? Really? Cas, how is it? How is he? I know what you’re up to now, so might as well tell me. I’m curious. Is he strenuous? Caring or thuggish? Wild or a bore? Does he like that thing you do? You know the one. When you whisper my—well, _his _name in that ridiculously low suave voice of yours. I bet you’re making him beg with that.”

Convinced that Hannah had made up her mind and that no matter what he would say she wouldn’t believe him, Castiel held his stare on her, pursing his lips, without uttering another word.

“I hope he’s worth it, Cas, because you’re pretty much done back home. I ran into Naomi when I was at the Lazarus. She asked me if I knew when you’d be back. I thought that was odd considering you told me you had applied for a six month leave. And I told her that and that I was under the impression that you two kept in touch.”

“We are. I did tell Naomi it would be for six months,” said Castiel, feeling his stomach dropping with every word she spoke.

“That’s what she said too. But she also said that she was surprised you weren’t back yet. Apparently, she agreed to let you go because she was convinced you wouldn’t stay that long.” She shook her head. “Naomi didn’t know _why _you had asked for six months specifically, did she?”

Castiel swallowed.

“Well, with everyone blabbing, none of it by me, she knows now.” She handed him the piece of paper. “This is from her. Basically, because you chose to omit a lot of details, and because of the—um, rumors—unless you show up in New York, like, now and prove that all of it is bullshit, you’re pretty much fired.”

Castiel flinched. “What? That can’t—Naomi told you this?”

She let out a laugh. “Naomi didn’t have to tell me shit. She gave me that envelope for you when I told her I would be visiting you in a few days. I thought it was weird, but whatever. No, she didn’t tell me this. But I know people too, Cas. And I’m dead serious about that.”

“It can’t—this isn’t—”

She put her coat back on and her scarf around her neck. “Like I said, I hope it was worth it, because even if you manage to somehow keep your job, which is a big if, you’re never running away from that reputation of being bought off by some rancher. The wild west, indeed.”

“But I haven’t—it’s not what’s happening.”

“That’s not what people are saying. And trust me, those are the _civilized _rumors I’ve heard.”

She put her purse on her shoulder, looking ready to leave.

“Hannah, hold on—I need to—where are you going?”

“Home. Obviously, there’s no reason why I should be here anymore.”

Castiel, in shock, remained perfectly still, looking at the fire blazing in front of him.

He then heard Hannah’s footsteps towards the door come to an abrupt stop.

“You must be Dean,” she said.

Castiel stopped breathing and turned around, facing the front door. To his horror Dean was standing by the door with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes looking down.

“He’s all yours now. I hope you find him worthy of every penny,” and she stepped out of the door, leaving Castiel and Dean alone in their house.

Once Castiel had regained his ability to breathe, he dropped on the couch. “How much did you hear?” he asked Dean.

“Enough,” said Dean, still beside the door.

“How much, Dean?”

But Dean remained silent.

Castiel, feeling numb, stared blankly in front him, as he tightly held the letter.

“Do you think it’s true? About your job?”

“I have no idea. But—” Castiel crushed the letter in his hand. Panic suddenly spreading through his chest, he jumped to his feet and dropped the squashed letter on the kitchen counter, as he headed towards the entrance where Dean was still standing.

But Castiel didn’t reach out for him. He put his boots on and grabbed his coat.

“Cas, can I—tell me what to do.”

“Nothing, Dean. No one can. I need a moment. I—I just need to think and process right now.”

And Castiel put on his coat and went for a long walk.

On his own.

The next few days passed in a daze. His worst fear became reality when he received an email from Naomi confirming mostly what Hannah had told him. No mention had been made about his marriage to Dean (or the rumors), but it clearly stated that Castiel had failed to produce the necessary proof required to support he had continued being on sabbatical leave and that he should present himself immediately at work or he would have to be let go.

None of it made sense. Castiel wasn’t even sure they could legally do this, but regardless of it all, he knew that he could not show up for work the next day, and all this proved was that the hotel was officially done with him.

The one place, which had given him a fair chance despite his family name, had finally given up on him. 

Desperate to adopt a state of denial, he tried his best to focus at work, but he wasn’t very successful. He stayed mostly hidden with Ash and Kevin in the greenhouse. He didn’t visit the horses or feed Elliot Ness and Dave Mather carrots like he usually enjoyed doing. He barely said anything to anyone all day. And his meals with Dean were spent in silence.

His entire time with Dean was spent in silence.

Finally, after nearly a week of Castiel’s somber state, Donna kindly proposed that he head home and take the day off.

He didn’t even protest. He thanked her and headed straight back to the house, only to find himself even more depressed once he was on his own in a big empty house. He sat on the couch and did nothing but look ahead of him for a really long time, until he heard, “Cas?”

He jumped, and realized that Dean was standing next to him.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing. Why? What are you doing here? I thought you had a meeting with Mr. Adler or something.”

“That was this morning. Donna said you weren’t feeling well. So I thought I’d check up on you.”

He sighed. “I’m fine, Dean. Head back to the ranch where you’re needed. I’ll go back too, shortly.”

Dean stayed put. “Pretty sure I’m needed here.”

Castiel crossed his arms over his chest, as he leaned back into the couch. Dean took a deep breath and stepped closer to him. As he was about to sit next to him, Castiel jumped to his feet and walked away from the couch.

“Cas? Please. Tell me—we need to talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to say, Dean. It is what it is.”

“I’m sure we can—I’ll help you—”

“Do what?” Castiel snapped at him. “You’ll help me do what?” He shook his head. “Dean, I have nothing left. Hannah—my friends deserted me. I now know why everyone was avoiding me. They’re gone. I lost my job, which I worked really fucking hard for. And even if I still had this, my reputation is destroyed. And that’s almost hilarious when you consider how low it was to begin with. I came here to help you. To help you keep the ranch and everyone here, because I honestly wanted to, but—”

“But what?” said Dean grimly.

“This fucking sucks. This whole thing just—I shouldn’t have done it. It’s too late now, but I shouldn’t have done it. It was too much. I left friends and loved ones behind. You have all of them here with you. I had to move. Not just to another residence, but to another town, to another state, and to a place that, honestly, brings back pretty awful memories for me. You got to move into the mansion of your grandfather, which is five minutes from where you lived. And you get your business. Your ranch. And even though I might get money at the end of it, I had to sacrifice everything to get it, including my dignity, apparently. Fuck. I understand now. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I understand why my father said—” Castiel stopped and shut his mouth, shaping his hands into fists.

“What? Said what? What are—”

But Castiel remained silent, looking away from Dean.

“Cas?”

“Doesn’t matter, Dean. You’ll get everything. Everything you want. And all you had to do was tolerate someone else sleeping in your bed. How is this fair?”

And he looked angrily at Dean.

Staring at Castiel straight in the eyes, Dean took one step and said, “You’re right. It isn’t. None of this is fair and I do get everything I want. But none of it is _how _I want it. I get the house—my favourite place in the world, my safe place—but it’s because my grandfather passed away. I get the ranch. The place I worked for my whole life. I put my soul into this place, but it doesn’t matter, because I inherited it and that’s all people care about. It doesn’t matter that I’m actually qualified for the job. That I know what I’m talking about. That I’m good at it. How hard I worked. How professional and dedicated I am. None of it matters, because at the end of the day, people will always just see me as the kid who just got handed over everything on a silver platter. Even if that’s not true. And you know what? As much as a pain in the ass that is—and it really fucking is—I was okay to deal with that. I expected that bullshit. That’s not the worst part. The worst part is you.”

Castiel felt a pang in his chest.

“You being here,” he said, pointing at him. “But not because you wanted to be here. Not because you wanted to see me. You’re here because of some weird clause from my dead grandfather’s will. After all this time, you’re finally here and that’s what wheeled you back here. And now, on top of that, I’m married to you. I have to go on holidays with you, play house with you, share my bed—_my fucking bed_—with you, but none of it is real. It’s not even pretend. It’s less than that. Jesus, I—it’s just enough to throw in my face what I could have but—but I know I never will. This is a temporary arrangement. Yes. An _arrangement _with limitations, and nothing more. And it hits me like a ton of bricks every goddamn time I remember it.”

Dean took a deep breath. His voice was wavering and his eyes were turning red, and all Castiel could do was to stand still and let him finish.

“So, yes. You’re right,” continued Dean, “I get everything I wanted and I ruined your life in the process. I’m sorry. This is not what I wanted to happen for you. And I don’t know how, but I will try everything I can to help you. But at least tell yourself that when all this is done, no matter what, you’re free to do and go wherever you want. I get to stay here and deal with the fact that I have been left behind. Again.”

And after giving him the most depressing look Castiel had ever had the displeasure to see on his face, Dean gunned for the front entrance and slammed the door behind him, leaving Castiel alone in the house with the weight of Dean’s speech around him.

Castiel spent the rest of the afternoon lying on the guest room bed. Nothing made sense to him anymore.

He was mad and confused about everything and everyone.

He didn’t understand how everything had spun out of control so quickly and so badly.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do with life.

And he didn’t know what to think of Dean’s confession.

Castiel couldn’t grasp why Dean hadn’t said anything before. He knew they had been drawn to each other, but this was evidently more than that for Dean. And if Castiel was perfectly honest, it had been the same for him too.

But Castiel had dismissed that notion because he had been certain Dean hadn’t been interested. Dean had flat out turned him down every time an opportunity had come their way, not him. Why on earth would he have done so if everything he had told him was the truth?

Nevertheless, Castiel felt awful. None of this was his doing, and yet he felt like he should apologize to Dean, for having snapped at him at the very least.

Overwhelmed and tired of everything, Castiel took a quick shower, hoping it would wash everything away, as dinnertime was nearly approaching.

He hadn’t heard anything from Dean all afternoon, which had been simultaneously worrisome and a relief to Castiel.

He had no idea what he could tell him. The situation hadn’t changed, and the more he was thinking about it, the more furious he was becoming at Dean for not having said anything.

Not feeling in a cooking mood, he warmed up some leftovers in the oven, and awaited Dean’s return with apprehension.

But to Castiel’s disappointment, Dean didn’t show up for dinner. Castiel tried calling him, and sadly all his calls were directly sent to voicemail.

Which only increased his worry and anger even more.

After an hour of waiting, not feeling famished, he put the food away, hoping they might share it later when Dean would eventually come back. Perhaps, he thought, they could then discuss clearly what had happened.

He was about to make himself a cup of tea when his phone buzzed.

“Dean?” he answered eagerly.

“No, Hubby Boss. It’s Donna.”

“Oh. Hello, Donna.”

“Hi, Cas. Um, I was actually calling for Dean. But now—do you know where he is?”

“No, I haven’t seen him since—I don’t know lunch? Afternoon?”

“Woopsie. Then we have a problem.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, trying to remain calm.

“We can’t find him and it appears that no one has seen him since this afternoon.”

“What?”

“Yes, that’s very unlike him. He didn’t show up for rounds. He’s been dodging everybody’s calls, including Miss Knight and that was imp—anyway, he missed it. And he was supposed to meet with Aaron about the menus, but he didn’t show up either. A few guests have been, um, demanding, and we dealt with everything. It’s fine. But that’s why we’ve only just realized no one has any idea where Dean is. Kevin just told me he saw Dean head towards the house in the afternoon and that seems to be the last time anyone has seen him.”

“He did come to the house. I have no idea what time it was, but it was in the afternoon.”

“Okay, and then?”

“And then… he left.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary?”

“He—no, he was upset, Donna.”

“Darn it. What happ—um, and you haven’t heard anything from him since?”

“No. I tried to call him too, but I’m only getting voicemail.”

Positive that Dean hadn’t left the property, Donna started listing a few places they had already check and asked Castiel if there was any other place he might think of.

“I think I might know where he is,” said Castiel, putting on his jacket. He told Donna of his idea. “You guys check the other places and I’ll check that one. If someone finds him, we call the others.”

“Sure thing, Hubby Boss.”

But Castiel’s guess had been right. He found Dean at the old stables near Henry’s first house. While the houses were occupied, the old stables weren’t. Even in his childhood, it hadn’t been used for anything except a bit of storage for the Winchester family.

Castiel knew this because it had once been their favourite hiding spot when they were young.

Music was playing low. Dean was lying on an old couch, with his hat over his face, and a bottle of whiskey next to the couch.

Castiel didn’t know if he was relieved or even more irritated at the sight.

After calling Donna to inform her he had located Dean, she sent Bobby to help him, and they clumsily walked back to the house with a very sluggish Dean.

Once they reached the front door, Castiel thanked Bobby immensely, and told him he could get it from there.

“All right, son. But it’s really no issue,” he said.

Gripping Dean by the waist and holding Dean’s hand over his shoulder, he said, “I’m good. I swear. Thank you for everything.”

Bobby nodded and told him to call if there was any problem. After Castiel and Dean stepped inside the house, Bobby wished him good night, and shut the door behind them calmly.

It wasn’t easy, but Castiel managed to bring Dean to the bedroom.

He dropped him on the bed.

Furious with Dean, Castiel had half a mind to simply leave him there to sleep it off and to walk away from the poor sight of Dean hurting this way.

But as he was about to exit the room, Castiel had a change of heart.

With a heavy sigh, he returned to Dean’s side, deciding that he could perhaps help him so his hangover wouldn’t be as brutal in the morning.

He started undressing Dean. He took off his boots and socks. He got rid of his coat, flannel and undershirt. But he left his pants on.

He paused a moment when he noticed that Dean had an intriguing tattoo on his chest. It looked like an odd symbol. A pentagram inside of a sun.

“Dean? Hey, Dean,” he said, gently shaking him. “Dean, open your eyes.”

He did with great effort. “I wanna sleep.”

“Dean, look up. Is the room spinning?”

“What?”

“When you open your eyes, is the room spinning?”

Dean shut his eyes. “It’s spinning even if my eyes are closed.”

At Dean’s answer, Castiel left Dean’s side shortly to start the shower in the bathroom.

“Dean,” he said, trying to wake him up once he was back. “Dean, get up.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“You have to. You’ll feel better.”

“No.”

“Dean. Get up, please. I’m trying to help you.”

Castiel pulled slightly on his arm, and Dean followed him with his eyes still shut tightly.

Even with his eyes closed, he flinched at the brightness of the bathroom lights.

“Why a shower?”

“It will make you feel better.”

“Showers don’t sober you up.”

“I didn’t say sober you up. I said make you feel better.”

“Sounds dangerous. I could slip.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“I just wanna sleep.”

“Get in the shower and you can sleep after.”

Castiel was about to tell Dean he could keep his pants on, but Dean, without thinking, had already undid his pants and pushed them and his underwear on the ground, before Castiel had even time to utter one word.

Aided by Castiel, Dean then stepped into the shower. He was steady enough on his feet, but he still needed the wall for additional support. Castiel stepped in as well, but stayed at the edge, and held him firmly by his arm ensuring he wouldn’t fall or slip. The water was warm and Dean seemed comfortable. Then, Castiel mildly lowered water temperature. Dean opened his eyes at the small discomfort, but shut them again quickly. Castiel lowered the temperature of the water again. And again. And again. It wasn’t freezing cold, of course, but cold enough to hopefully make him more alert.

Dean whined, trying to get out, but Castiel kept him steady and in place. And he changed the water once more.

“Cas, what the fuck. It’s cold.”

“That’s the point.”

“I’m freezing. Enough.”

“No, not yet.”

Dean opened his eyes again, and this time he seemed more alert. He seemed to realize where he was. What he was doing. He looked down, as if assessing he was naked for the first time, and he brought his hands in front of his genitals, hiding himself. Dean looked directly at Castiel with sad eyes.

“Cas. It’s really cold.”

“I know, I’m sorry, but it will help you. A little bit more.”

He didn’t tamper with the water anymore, but he kept Dean under the water for another good minute. Dean didn’t fight him. He remained still, with his eyes fixed on Castiel.

Castiel stepped in, shut off the water, and carefully helped Dean out of the shower. He wrapped him in a massive towel.

His eyes were wide open and he was definitely more alert, but his motion was still heavy and slow.

Castiel pushed Dean’s clothes aside on the floor, making sure Dean wouldn’t trip on them and helped a shivering Dean back to the bedroom. He grabbed pajama pants from the drawer, asked Dean’s opinion about them, and Dean nodded. Seated at the edge of the bed, Dean was busy trying to put one leg after the other, as Castiel returned from the bathroom with a large glass of water.

Once his pajama pants were on, Dean tried to lie on his back but Castiel stopped him.

“No. Not yet. You need to drink this.”

“Why?”

“Do it.”

“Sleep, Cas. I just wanna sleep.”

“Soon. But this will help you.”

Dean took a sip and returned the glass to Castiel, but he pushed it back. “All of it.”

Dean looked at him suspiciously. “You’re bossy.”

“Don’t really have a choice right now, don’t I?”

“Oh no. I’m in trouble,” chanted Dean. He drank the rest of the glass, as Castiel had instructed. Dean shivered. “I’m cold.” He attempted to stand up, but almost fell.

“I’ll get you a sweater.” Castiel handed him his towel and said, “Dry your hair a bit and then you can lie down.”

Doing as he was told, Dean slid himself higher on the bed, while Castiel quickly grabbed a large and thick sweater for him. He went back the bathroom and came back with another glass of water, which he put on Dean’s nightstand, right before handing Dean his sweater. Dean, with some misery, managed to put it on, got himself under the covers and dropped on his back, one arm covering his eyes.

After he dropped a small garbage bin by the side of the bed for precaution, Castiel changed his damped clothes quickly and sat at end of the bed, weighing if he should leave. He was still mad at Dean, but he wanted to make sure he would be all right. Castiel also wanted to ask him a few questions, even though he gathered that this particular moment was evidently not best suited for such questions.

“I missed you.”

Castiel turned to him. “Did you?” he said, almost amused. “Wasn’t that long, Dean.”

“No. I missed you before. How is that possible? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t understand either. What do you mean by _before_?”

“_Before_,” he repeated, as if it was the most obvious thing. “That’s what I thought. When I saw you.”

“In New York, you mean?”

Dean nodded. “When I left after, you know, after I told you, that’s what I thought when I was walking to my room. That I missed you.” Dean sighed. “How is this possible? I know it had been years, but I still missed you. A few years, sort of. But still.”

“Few years? What—last time had been well over ten years ago.”

“No, less. Few years.”

Castiel frowned. “I know you’ve been drinking, Dean, but no. The last time we saw each other was when I left the ranch with my family on our last stay. Neither of us were even in high school at the time.”

“Not me.”

“I don’t—”

“I saw you after that.”

“What? No, we—what do you mean? When?”

“At your graduation. University. I know you asked—I know I—when,” he stopped, let out a deep sigh of frustration. “Back when I travelled a bit more, when it wasn’t that much of an issue—it still was, but…I—I told you I rarely travelled and it had only been for business. That wasn’t a lie. That was true. But that last time, I hadn’t travelled just for business. It was for business, but—it was your graduation. And I heard that none of your family would be able to assist. That made me so mad. I was there. So, I went.”

“To my ceremony?”

“Yes. It was in the morning. Which I thought was odd. I didn’t think they did that. But then again, I didn’t go to a big university. Not smart enough for that.”

“Dean, don’t say that about yourself, please.”

“It was hot. Warm. Really humid,” he continued. “The air is different than here. It was sticky. It was really long. There were so many people. But they eventually announced you. I would have recognized you anyway, but there you were. The gown was black, and you all wore a tacky green collar thingy. But I remember you were wearing bright blue Converse. Which I thought was funny.”

“You were there?” Castiel’s heartbeat was racing.

“I cheered for you. When you walked. I waved. There was a lot of people so I knew you wouldn’t see me, but I was glad that I saw you.”

A lump was swelling in Castiel’s throat. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Why don’t you ever say anything, thought Castiel.

“I was going to. But you were talking with all your friends. And I hadn’t seen you since the day you left. It would have been weird. I didn’t know what to say. Except maybe congratulations, but that sounded too—and then I realized that I had to leave.”

“But why? Dean, I—” Castiel held his breath, looking at the ceiling. He swallowed, and said, “I would have been so happy to see you. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Dean still had one of his hands over his eyes and slid the other one over his chest.

“Dean?” said Castiel softly. “Why did you leave?”

“Because of my—for the past few years before that, every time I met someone, new or not, people always looked at me awkwardly with sad eyes, because of what happened to my parents. I know they meant well, but I just—I didn’t want you to do that. Especially on that day. It would have spoiled your day. So I left. I left and I regretted it.”

Castiel, again, didn’t know what to say.

“And then, the irony of all is that the next time I got to see you was because of a death in the family. So I didn’t escape it anyway. And I couldn’t believe how much I missed you. Graduation day and the hotel. Isn’t that just sad? Isn’t that the stupidest and most pathetic thing you’ve ever heard? That I missed you?”

Dean’s voice was breaking then. The room wasn’t properly lit, but Castiel could discern that Dean held his fingers on his eyelids, with tears sliding down his face.

“I’m here now, Dean.”

“You’re here now,” he repeated grimly. “But—but soon you won’t be anymore. And I can’t blame you,” he said, gesturing at himself. “And I’ll still miss you.”

“Dean, I—”

“It’s okay. I get it, Cas. Please, don’t—you don’t have to. I just—I just don’t understand why he did this. Why did he think this was a good idea? I’m starting to think he hated me.”

“No. Dean, I don’t believe that for a second. Don’t think that. You know Henry—you know that’s not true.”

Dean remained quiet, and after a deep sigh, he turned his back to Castiel, with a last effort to pull the covers to his chin.

Castiel felt like crap. He was still angry with Dean. He was angry at the situation in itself. But seeing Dean in a heartbroken state weighed on him much more deeply than he liked to admit it.

He couldn’t bear to leave him alone.

He slid himself to the head of the bed, fixed the pillows, and sat comfortably next to Dean, resting his back against the headboard.

One look at Dean next to him, who had his arms clutched against himself and his eyes shut, Castiel knew he couldn’t help himself.

He lifted his left hand, and gently ran his fingers through Dean’s hair. At first, Dean’s shoulders tensed up at Castiel’s touch, but when he realized Castiel was only trying to soothe him, his entire body relaxed.

And Castiel continued doing so even long after Dean had evidently fallen asleep.


	9. The Aftermath

The first thought that came to Castiel’s mind when he slowly opened his eyes on the next morning was _warmth_.

He was still seated in bed, with his head against the headboard and his hand resting gently on Dean’s head, as if he had fallen asleep running his fingers through his hair.

But it appeared that Dean had shifted position during the night. His face was now resting against Castiel’s stomach and he had one arm wrapped around him.

Castiel’s heart made a small jump at the realization. He stayed perfectly still in that fashion for a few minutes, fully taking in that Dean was sleeping in his arms, and of the frenzy and delight spreading his body, caused by that fact.

He was still upset with Dean, but stating that feeling Dean’s warmth against him was _pleasant_, was an understatement.

Nonetheless, aware that he would most likely wake Dean if he stayed in that manner for too long, Castiel, as gently as he could, craftily slid himself away from him and off the bed.

Sadly.

The change of position made Dean stir a bit, but he then simply turned himself on his back and fell right back to sleep, without opening his eyes.

Standing still and holding his breath, Castiel observed him for a moment. He looked so peaceful and beautiful, that Castiel almost reconsidered leaving the room.

But he wanted to give Dean a proper chance to improve and sleep was the best option for him now. After swiftly grabbing some spare clothes, he quietly left the room, shut the door, though not completely, hoping Dean would be left in peace, and went to the bathroom from the guest room to pursue his early morning routine.

Freshly showered, he weighed on what he could occupy his mind with considering the early hour of the morning, and that he was unable to know when Dean would wake up. Thus, he decided that perhaps a good hangover breakfast would be beneficial for Dean once he would be back with the living, and he went ahead and cooked a massive breakfast.

He cooked potatoes, a crazy amount of bacon, chorizo sausages, a multitude of roasted vegetables and variety of eggs. And while he was not exactly sure why, Castiel followed his inspiration and made five different types of omelets. He put it all in the oven for it to stay warm and ready when Dean would wake up. On a roll, he then decided to make freshly pressed orange juice.

That was when someone knocked on the door.

He hurried to the door, hoping they hadn’t woken up Dean, and opened it. Donna was standing there, smiling brightly.

“Hello, Donna.”

“Morning, Hubby Boss.” He let her in. “Oooh, whatcha cooking? It smells like my grandma’s house on family brunches. Somewhere between a barbeque and a swell breakfast buffet.”

“I’ve made breakfast for Dean, but he’s still sleeping. I was hoping the smell of food would wake him up, but no luck so far. Which says a lot. Are you hungry? There’s enough for an army.”

“Don’t temp me, Cas,” she said, squinting at him. “I already had a generous breakfast as it is this morning.”

“Freshly pressed orange juice?” he offered. “I was just about to make coffee too.”

“I’ll take a small cup of that coffee, then.” Castiel nodded. He took out the French press coffee maker on the counter, and while he was filling the kettle with water, he asked, “So, what’s up?”

“Right. Um, well, I was supposed to get Dean to help us at the reception desk pronto. Apparently there’s been an error in the reservations. It’s part of the mini-chaos we had to deal with yesterday. Everything seemed to be back in order, everyone was a happy camper last night…but it seems that, um, one of them changed their mind about that this morning. They haven’t created too many waves yet, but I can tell they won’t wait too long and—um, since they were already asking for Dean yesterday…”

Castiel let out a sigh. He put the filled up kettle on the counter, thinking.

“I could wake up Dean right now, but somehow I feel like that’s not going to help anyone. Least of all Dean.”

“How is he?”

“Better, I suppose. But he’s sleeping. And he needs it.” Donna nodded. “The more he sleeps, the better he’ll feel when he wakes up.”

Donna couldn’t help but grin. “Aw, Hubby Boss. You care about him. I knew you were one of the good ones.”

Castiel swallowed. “It’s difficult not to in the state he’s in.”

“Uh-huh. Says the guy who prepared a royal breakfast for him.”

“I—um, maybe we should just skip the coffee and head over there right away. Let me just change quickly, so I won’t look like—”

“Like you’re chilling at home cooking for your husband as you have a right to do?”

“You—you know what I mean,” he said, clearing his voice. “Let me just change. I’ll leave a note for Dean and I’ll go help you with the guests."

“Really? You’ll do that?”

“Yes, of course.”

Castiel hurried down the hallway after he insisted Donna helped herself to a small orange juice, at the very least. He entered the bedroom carefully, not wanting to disturb Dean. He simply swapped a jacket and nicer pants for himself quickly.

While changing, he kept an eye on Dean, who was still lying on his back, snoring softly. Finishing buckling his belt, Castiel thought for a moment, and then quietly grabbed a small sheet of paper and wrote “Drink one glass every time you wake up.”

He deposited the note right next to the other three glasses of water he had left by Dean’s nightstand, making sure to not wake him.

At the doorway, he glanced at him, and convinced Dean was sleeping fondly and that he was better where he was, he delicately shut the door behind him, telling himself to leave a note in the kitchen about the food before leaving.

Although, he had no problem believing that Dean’s nose—and stomach—would figure this one out the moment he woke up.

By the time Castiel and Donna arrived at the main building, the irritated guest was already roaring at Garth by the welcoming desk.

Poor Garth was trying the best he could to be helpful, but every suggestion that he shared with him, in the most patient and kind voice, was rejected in a rude manner. Instant relief spread on his face the moment he spotted Castiel and Donna in the doorway.

“Ca—Mr. Novak,” said Garth. He made the introductions and tried desperately to explain what was the problem, but the guest cut him right off.

“I’d like to speak with the supervisor.”

“Miss Hanscum is the supervisor,” said Castiel calmly.

“I mean the supervisor of each and every one of you. The one person who is charge and can do something.”

“You mean—”

“The owner, son. The owner. God, are you all so slow here.”

Garth lowered his eyes, looking miserable. And Castiel thought it was probably the first time he had ever seen Donna without a smile. She glanced at Castiel, looking quite vexed.

As for Castiel, the moment he heard the man’s unnecessary insults and bad attitude, he adopted his deadpan expression and looked the man straight in the eyes. He didn’t let it show, but he was now boiling inside.

“You are speaking to the owner,” he said nonchalantly.

Donna and Garth stared at him.

“You? I don’t think so. I’ve met the owner before. The owner’s Winchester.”

“And Mr. Winchester is my husband,” he said, lifting his left hand, thus revealing his wedding ring. “Which by law makes me one of the owners. And while Dean, my husband, would be most definitely the proper expert to this establishment, he is unfortunately otherwise occupied at this moment. I assure you, however, that I’m very capable, as well as the rest of these wonderful and resourceful employees, to make sure your stay is everything you wished for, and we apologize for the confusion yesterday.”

Before the man could say anything else, Castiel turned to Donna and Garth, “Miss Hanscum and Mr. Fitzgerald? I thank you for your patience and help, but I think I’ll take it from here. I’m sure you have other pressing matters that demand your attention.”

Garth nodded rapidly, grabbed his phone and a few sheets of paper from the front desk, and disappeared into the back room quickly, not wishing to spend another moment with their disagreeable guest.

Donna gave him a firm nod, and while she was still harboring a serious expression, Castiel could have sworn he detected a smile at the corner of her mouth. She headed down the hallway, which led to the staff room and eventually the kitchen quarters.

Castiel turned around, facing his guest. And although he wasn’t smiling, he spoke clearly and gently, “Please, how can I help you? I understand the issue at hand is regarding the size of your rooms?”

Once the emergency had been dealt with, Castiel worked with Donna the rest of the morning, helping to clear out the chaos at hand with the numerous guests. The morning was productive and flew by swiftly.

Although he had been happy to be of service, he had to admit that he had greatly welcomed the distraction.

Right before lunchtime, however, he judged he should perhaps return to the house to see how Dean was doing, as he still hadn’t shown up yet.

“Of course, Hubby Boss. Thanks for your help,” she said with a brilliant smile.

“Um, Donna? I hope—I hope I didn’t step out of line earlier. I—when I said—”

“You owned the place?” she said, smirking.

Castiel bit his lips.

“The thing is, technically speaking, right now, you do own the place, Cas. As long as you’re married to Dean, you are.” Then she rolled her eyes, and added, “Not like—you know what I mean. And I know you weren’t going all power trip on us.” She leaned in closer, whispering, “You gave him what he wanted: an owner. _And _you also managed to put that massive jerk back in his place in the most civilized manner. I’m glad you did because I was about to lose my cool after what he said.”

“I know. I just—I—”

“Stop,” she said warningly. “I told you. You didn’t lie. And you helped us. If anything I’m sad for you. You were the one left to deal with him.”

Castiel let out a small laugh.

Donna studied him an instant. “You know, you should do this more often.” She grabbed her phone after it buzzed.

“Being yelled at by customers?”

“No, silly bean. You, working with the clientele. I didn’t hear everything you said to him, but from what you reported, and how quickly you dealt with the situation—without aggravation—I honestly cannot say I would have pulled this off. You’re brilliant. I know you like the greenhouse, but you—you should visit us more often. You’re good at this.”

“I didn’t want to overstep on anybody’s assigned responsibilities.”

“We’re not at each other’s throats here. There is plenty for everybody. Nobody can do everything on their own. You help us how you can. Just—think about it.”

Castiel nodded and said, “I will. Thank you.”

And before letting him leave, she said, “That was badass. You really are _Hubby Boss_, ya know?” Which made him chuckle as she waltzed into one of the main rooms, waving at Pamela.

Stepping onto the porch, Castiel was just about to open the door when he heard voices nearby. He walked away from the door, while remaining on the porch, and he slowly headed to the corner leading to the side of the house, as he followed the sound. He deduced that whoever was speaking must have been close to the patio door on the other side. Before reaching the corner, however, the voices became very discernable.

“…you should have seen his face, Sam. Adler, he—he’s fuming.”

“Do you think that means he’ll retaliate? I mean—he can’t do anything. Nobody can do anything until the six months are over no matter what. Just let him stew. That’s how he’ll make a mistake.”

“Or get desperate and angry enough to…I don’t know.”

Castiel didn’t wish to eavesdrop on Sam and Dean’s conversation. He was about to leave them be and go back to the front door, when he heard, “So, um, since you haven’t said anything yet…how—how is Cas doing? How’s he been the last few days?”

“How do you think he’s doing?” said Dean in a rough voice.

Someone let out a loud sigh.

There was a pause, and then Sam said, “Dean, I—I think that Cas will want to stay. If you ask—”

“Sam, don’t—stop. He won’t. And I’m not doing that.”

“Why not? It’s what you want. It is, isn’t it? Dean?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m still not doing that.”

“Why?”

There was a pregnant pause, and then Sam asked again, “Dean, why?”

“Because he hates me, okay. I ruined his life. If he stays here—I’m—” Someone took a deep breath. “I want him to stay here because that’s what he wants. Not because I fucking set everything else around him on fire so he has nowhere else to go.”

Castiel felt a pit in his stomach.

“That’s not why he would stay.”

“We’ll never know, now, won’t we? Because that’s what happened. God, I can’t believe how much I fucked this up,” said Dean in a broken voice. “I did to him exactly what I was trying to avoid happening to us. But, like, ten times worse. And now he hates me and I can’t blame him.”

“Cas doesn’t hate you, Dean. I don’t believe that. And none of what happened was your fault. He knows that. You didn’t—”

“Sam, trust me. After everything—after yesterday, there’s no coming back from that one.”

Castiel was momentarily paralyzed on the spot. He didn’t want to hear what Dean was saying about their fight the day before, but he seemed to have lost the ability to move.

“What happened?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Um, Dean? You skipped work. You, the workaholic. And you got drunk. Pretty sure it does matter.”

Castiel held his breath and listened carefully for Dean’s answer, but he didn’t say anything.

“Dean. Talk to me.”

There was a long minute of silence, where Sam was evidently also waiting for Dean to say something, until he continued speaking, “Fine. You get to listen to me then. Will you ever stop being so hard on yourself? Dean, I don’t know why you’ve always been determined to think that everyone hates you, but they don’t. Far from it. And that’s including Cas. I don’t know what happened yesterday, or at Christmas—and don’t,” said Sam hurriedly, “don’t say nothing because that’s bullshit. But whatever it is, I don’t think it’s as unsalvageable as you think. I mean, look at this. He made you breakfast. He might be upset, which he has a right to be, but I don’t think he hates you. Or even dislikes you.”

Castiel swallowed hard and walked away, knowing full well that he had lingered long enough. He opened the front door and stepped into the house. He assessed, with great relief, that based on the plates and pots on the kitchen counters, Dean had indeed eaten some of the breakfast he had prepared for him.

He slowly walked to the patio door, where he could see Sam and Dean were still seated on patio furniture, wearing thick coats and holding coffee mugs pressed closely to them, as if to keep themselves warm.

Though he could no longer hear them, they were still talking and seemingly unaware of his presence, so Castiel deduced they hadn’t heard him or the front door.

He took a deep breath, walked towards the patio door and knocked, announcing his presence.

Sam and Dean immediately stopped talking and turned abruptly towards him.

Castiel smiled faintly and lifted his hand with a small hello.

After a quick glance at his brother, Sam eagerly stood up and walked to the patio door. Dean followed him, looking apprehensive.

“Cas, hey! Good morning,” said Sam as he stepped inside.

“Hello, Sam.”

Dean was now beside Sam, with his arms across his chest, with diverting eyes.

“Hello, Dean,” said Castiel, hoping it hadn’t sounded as awkward as he felt it had.

“Hey.”

Sam cleared his throat. “So I hope you don’t mind Cas, but I nibbled on part of the feast you had prepared," he said, pointing at the counter. “It was delicious by the way.”

“No problem. I had made evidently far too much for two.”

Sam nodded. He turned to Dean, who was still resolute in remaining quiet.

“Okay, well, I think—um, I should probably head back.”

“You don’t have to leave on my account, Sam,” said Castiel.

“I’m not,” he assured him. “But, um,” he put his mug on the counter and headed towards the door, “I think I’ll just—I need to head back. Nice to see you, Cas. Until next time.”

He opened the door, waved at him, and then gave Dean a stern look with a lifted eyebrow, and walked out the door.

“I didn’t know Sam was here. I’m happy you had breakfast together.”

Dean cleared his throat, while still avoiding Castiel’s eyes.

“He tried to call me all day yesterday, apparently. I had—I didn’t know. I turned off my phone at some point. When he still hadn’t heard back from me this morning, he called Bobby just to check, and when—he decided to take the morning off and come here. That’s what woke me up. When he knocked on my door.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. Not—not great. Mostly emba—but better. Somehow I feel like you had something to do with that?”

“I did what I could.”

Dean nodded.

“Have you seen my phone? I couldn’t find it earlier.”

Castiel thought for a moment. “I don’t remember handling your phone last night. You didn’t have it with you when I found you.”

“Found me? Where was that?” he asked anxiously.

“At the stables. The one we—the ones behind Henry’s old house.”

Dean leaned his head backwards, seemingly remembering where he had been.

“When’s the last time you remember using it?”

“I shut it off when I got there. I think. I—the day is a bit hazy. Not,” he added urgently, “not just because of the booze, just…” and the rest of his sentence died in his throat. Desperate to change the subject, he then asked, “So you went to work?”

“I didn’t plan for it,” he said, gesturing at the pots. “But Donna showed up in need of assistance.”

Dean looked up and uncrossed his arms. “What happened? What—” but he stopped talking when Castiel lifted a hand.

“It’s okay, Dean. We took care of it. Everything is under control.”

“Okay, but what was it?”

“I’ll tell you later. But for now, I—” Castiel paused for a moment, as he took a deep breath. “I think we need to talk.”

And Dean regained his initial position and even took a step back.

Suddenly aware that they were standing in the same exact spot where they had their fight the day before, they both felt tension and anxiety fill the air around them.

“Dean?”

Dean was resolute to be completely closed off.

Perhaps a change of scenery would help, thought Castiel.

“How about we go for a walk. We can go to the stables to look for your phone.”

Dean stood still, pursing his lips. But he gave Castiel a short nod.

“I just need to grab something first,” said Castiel, heading down the hallway, “and then we’ll go.”

They walked silently side by side the whole way there. Looking ahead and not at each other. The place was exactly how they had left it the night before, and it didn’t take long for Dean to find his phone in between the cushions of the old couch.

It was odd to find themselves in that place again.

Castiel looked around, curious, as he hadn’t taken the time to do so on the night before.

An old desk with a thick layer of dust that Castiel didn’t remember from before was on the other side of the room. On the wall behind it, old photographs of the family were hanging. Dean next to Mary who was holding baby Sam. Dean siting on John’s shoulders. John and Mary dancing at their wedding. And an old black and white photograph of a couple sitting on a swing that Castiel could discern were Henry and his wife Millie.

And there were pictures of Castiel and Dean, as well. Of them feeding the horses with Mary and Jim Murphy. Of both of them on the same horse, led by Henry, and where Castiel was wearing Dean’s hat.

“I don’t remember this being here,” said Castiel, turning to Dean.

“When we did the remodeling of the main building, Granddad improvised himself an office during the summer. It was closer to his house, so…but he grew fond of it. He’d use it once in a while.”

Dean was watching him with worry all over his face. His back was leaning on one of the gates of the stalls—the one right next to one of the exit points. Castiel, wanting to focus on Dean and not the photographs, walked to the couch and sat down.

“Do you want to start?” he asked Dean gently.

Dean looked down and shook his head.

“Okay, I’ll—I’ll go then,” said Castiel.

Dean swallowed, and shifted on his feet.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I’m sorry about my outburst. I hope—I hope you know that I was angry—frustrated at the situation. Not you. I don’t blame you for any of this. I don’t even blame Henry. That’s really not what I thought—think. I don’t think I worded it that way, but,” he paused, clearing his throat, “it was a little too close to sounding like it for my liking. In any case, I should have—I shouldn’t have lost it like that. At you like that.”

Dean still wasn’t looking at him, but at least Castiel thought he had his attention.

“I’m upset about my situation. Not my situation at the ranch, but out there,” he said, gesturing into empty space. He took a deep breath, taking a moment, and then added, “And for what it’s worth, I too wish I would have come here for a different reason.”

Dean shut his eyes, holding his jaw tightly shut, as he fought for his face to remain emotionless.

“That’s not how I wanted to come back here,” he continued. “And it is absolutely not what—what people are saying—that’s not what I would want people to think of me or you. Of us. Of this. I hate the thought of people thinking this of you. And part of me can’t help but feel like this is my fault.” Dean turned his head and stared at him with angry eyes at the suggestion. “I don’t think people would have even insinuated such a thing if it wasn’t because I’m—because of who I am.”

“Cas, I swear, you have to stop saying this about yourself.”

“But it’s true, Dean. I’m not saying that if it would have been someone else, people wouldn’t have commented on it, but I don’t think it would have spread like wildfire and that nastily if it would have been someone else. You know how people are. You’ve seen it yourself. Anyway, that’s not—I’m sorry. That’s what I wanted to say.”

“I’m sorry too,” said Dean, looking downwards again. “You didn’t lose it. Everything you said was true. And you have every right to be upset. Fuck, I’m upset for you. I’m the one who went way overboard yesterday when—” he stopped, shifting on his feet. “And then last night—I don’t know—I’m sorry for my behavior last night.”

“I was—I was worried about you. Do you remember what happened?”

Dean, staring at the ground, said, “Not much. I’m kind of glad.”

“Why?”

“I’m already embarrassed about the parts I do remember,” he said, clenching his jaw.

“And what do you remember?”

Dean let out a deep sigh. “I just remember that—I remember we talked. I’m not entirely sure about what, though I don’t think it’s hard to guess.” He cleared his throat. “I know I mentioned Henry at some point. Probably my parents too. Which is—” He sighed deeply, shutting his eyes tightly.

At Henry’s name, Castiel remembered something. His eyes fell on the photographs once more, and he then retrieved a piece of paper from his jacket he had fetched before leaving the house.

He twisted it in his fingers a moment, still reflecting on what he should do.

At the sight of the piece of paper, Dean looked at him curiously.

“It’s Henry’s letter,” said Castiel. “The one he sent me.”

“He—” Dean flinched and gawked at the letter. He uncrossed his arms and stepped forwards, now intrigued. “I thought you said you hadn’t received one.”

“I hadn’t when you had asked me about it,” said Castiel defensively. “I—I received it afterwards. I’m not sure why I didn’t tell you, but…” Castiel took a deep breath. “I brought it with me to the ranch, and you know how I travel light, so I guess on some level I must have wanted to share it with you eventually.”

Dean swallowed, and his eyes bounced back and forth from Castiel to the letter.

“After what you said last night, I debated if I should show it to you or not.”

“Why?”

“I—I hesitated because I don’t want you to think that this is the reason why I did—why I did everything I did for you. Why I tried to help you. I don’t want you to think that this,” he said, pointing at the letter, “is the reason I came here. It isn’t. I had already made up my mind by the time I read it.”

Castiel glanced down at the letter.

“Can you promise me you won’t think that if you read it?”

Dean bit his lip. “If you’re hesitating because of that, why do you want me to read it?”

Castiel took a deep breath. “While I don’t want you thinking this of me—and I repeat, that’s not why I came here—even more than that, I don’t want you to think Henry didn’t like you. Or wanted to torment you. Or thought ill of you. I don’t ever want you to doubt that. And I think if you read it, you’ll know.”

Castiel handed the letter to Dean.

After glancing at him, Dean took the letter with quivering hands. He observed it for a moment and then asked, “Do I have to—can I read it later?”

“Of course. You don’t have to read it this instant.”

“Thank you.”

Dean took a seat next to Castiel and tucked the letter in his coat.

They simply stayed seated on the couch, looking ahead with their elbows resting on their knees.

“Cas, can we just—can you please forget everything that happened? Can we just pretend like yesterday never happened and just go back to how we were before?”

Castiel looked at him, incredulous. He knew Dean wasn’t just referring to his booze induced jabbering. He was actually positive this had everything to do with his afternoon confession, and it pained Castiel that he simply wanted to dismiss it.

“Dean, I—I don’t think I can do that. Not—not after what you said. And—”

“Please, Cas. I’m—I’m begging you.” Dean shut his eyes, seemingly agonizing over his words. “Please.”

“But why?” he said softly. After a moment of silence, he continued, “I—I can give you—I can give you space, Dean. But I can’t pretend that I haven’t heard—I’ve—I passed my whole life pretending I didn’t hear what people were saying about me. Or my family. I don’t want to do this here.”

“Cas, please. I already just want to crawl into a hole and just—” He stopped mid-sentence, crossed his arms against him, glued his legs together and lowered his eyes.

They remained that way for a long time in silence, not knowing what else to say.

Castiel’s eyes eventually wandered around, studying the Winchester family’s stuff surrounding them. He then spotted, next to a small side table, buried underneath baskets, an old box of crackers.

And a small smile grew on Castiel’s face.

“Do you remember the day with the big storm?” said Castiel.

“When we hid here?” asked Dean. “Of course. I always loved that day. We had spent the whole day exploring and we didn’t come back until dark. We had a box of crackers and water with us. That’s it. We made it the whole day with only that.”

Castiel nodded, remembering.

“My favourite part was the big tree by the lake,” said Dean, smiling. “I never understood how you could climb so high.”

Castiel let out a small laugh. “From the top of the tree, I could see the horses running far away in the distance.” He bit on his lips. “My favourite part was here. When we came back at the end of the day and hid here. We climbed in the mini loft, upstairs, and from the top we looked at the storm raging. I remember it being really loud.”

“It was pouring. Bright lightning and thunder that resonated all around. And we sat there watching the whole thing.”

Castiel nodded, with a smile at the corner of his mouth.

“I almost kissed you then.”

Dean turned. “What?”

“I almost kissed you,” repeated Castiel. “I was thinking about it. I—honestly, I don’t think I remember ever thinking that before that day, but I had in that moment.”

“And why, um, why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. The moment passed I suppose. Maybe I was confused about what it meant. But I didn’t do anything. I remember telling myself that I should have, all the way back to my family cabin afterwards. And by the time I made it to my door, I had convinced myself that I should do it first thing the next morning.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No, because the next morning was the day we left. That last time.”

Dean frowned.

“What? No. That…that wasn’t the same day…”

“The day of the storm was the day before I left,” stated Castiel firmly. “I came back to my cabin and my parents were arguing. I still remember Michael and Anna being incredibly angry with me that I had just showed up. At first I thought I was the reason of the fight, but I wasn’t. My parents broke up that day.” He let out a short laugh. “My _family _broke up that day. That’s when my father was—he lost everything. We were told to pack our things and that we were leaving first thing in the morning, because we couldn’t afford to stay here anymore. That we were in trouble. All of us. I asked if I could speak to you, but given the time it was, not to mention that I had been missing all day long, the answer had been a big fat no. So my plan was to see you real early the next morning right before we left.”

“You didn’t do that either,” said Dean somberly.

“They didn’t let me. We left before dawn without telling anything to anyone. I’m pretty sure not even Henry knew. You want to know the funny part? I honestly thought we would be back. That this was just a big misunderstanding and we would be back. But that’s not what happened.”

Castiel carefully took a glance at Dean. “I didn’t know this,” said Dean.

“All this time you thought I had left without saying anything on purpose?”

“Granddad, he—” Dean cleared his throat, as he crossed his arms around his chest. “He told us it was an emergency, but...”

Castiel turned his head forward and took a deep breath.

“Why are you tell me this now?” croaked Dean. “About that day and the—the storm.”

“You need to understand what this place was for—when I said it brought back bad memories, it’s not of you, Dean. It’s about my family. The memory of when everything shattered for me. It always follows me, but being here, where it all began…These past months, you made the place far more bearable than I thought you could. So much so that when—when Hannah—it just brought it all back. That I can never escape this. That’s how I feel right now. And—” he shifted in his seat, “and you need to know that it’s—it’s not just you. This is complicated for me too. You’re not—it’s not in your head. I’m just—I’m confused about many things.”

They stayed quiet for a long time again, until Dean asked, “So what are we supposed to do, now?”

“I don’t know. I have no idea. I know I need to…process a few things. I—the best I can answer right now is to take it one day at a time until the six months are done and then…I don’t know.”

“We don’t have to.”

“What?”

“The six months,” Dean said, biting his lips. “You—we can stop. That’s what I should have said the moment we heard about your job. About what people—we should have called it off. Or at the very least, I should have gone with you to New York, so you’d have the opportunity to explain the situation yourself. We can still do that too. I feel like it might be better for you if I stay clear of the hotel, but I’ll go with you if that’s what you need. And then we can—um, decide what to do depending on the situation.”

Castiel held his breath. “I doubt that will help me with my job, but if they say that I can stay?”

“Then you stay. And the deal’s off.”

Castiel felt a lump in his throat as he studied Dean, because he knew Dean had meant every word. And worse, he didn’t seem to be saying it out of guilt.

“I don’t think that’s going to solve anything, Dean. I—I don’t want to say I don’t want my job back anymore, because that would be a lie. But even if I knew that going there to plead my case would guarantee me my job back, I know it will never be the same. Too much has happened. I would still have to deal with the other stuff. And frankly,” he swallowed hard, “after what they did, it just tells me they never really cared about me. None of them. I got passed over for so long there, and I knew why. And I never questioned it because I’m just—used to it. If that’s how they treated me before, I’m not particularly eager to find out how they would treat me if I crawled back there.”

Dean, tearing up, shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Cas. For everything.”

“It’s not your fault, Dean. I told you. And besides, we’re—we’re almost done with the six months. It would be stupid to stop it now, especially since it won’t change anything for me back home.”

Dean looked down, clenching his jaw.

“Unless—unless that’s what you want,” said Castiel. “For me to go.”

Dean held his stare. “I want to help you fix this. That’s what I want,” he said in a quivering voice. “I don’t know how, but I need to do this.”

Castiel locked eyes with him. This was first time since the night before where Dean sounded like his usual self.

But he knew that no one could change anything. Not even Dean, and this no matter how true his intentions were. The damage had been done.

But he thought he wouldn’t lose anything if he let Dean try.

So Castiel gave him a firm nod. “Okay. We’ll do that then.”


	10. A Long Day

Due to the recent turn of events, Castiel and Dean decided it would perhaps be best for the both of them to let the dust settle for a time and avoid any situation that could result with them repeating their argument.

Unfortunately, this included their upcoming trip.

Although they had both been looking forward to it, they feared that the pressure—not to mention the heavy awkwardness in the air—would be too much.

Thus, it was to be cancelled for now, and hopefully they would revisit the subject at the end of February.

At the very least.

But after all their research and reservations, it was also disappointing for them to see it all go to waste.

Seated at the table after their dinner, phone in hand, Dean was about to start calling to cancel everything when Castiel shared an idea.

“What if we let Sam and Jess have our trip?” suggested Castiel.

Dean frowned at him. “We can do that? Like even our reservations and stuff? It’s in my name. _Our names_.”

“We haven’t officially confirmed anything yet. If we call now and just change the name, I think it should be fine.”

“Really?”

“Like I said, we haven’t officially confirmed it yet, so we should be fine to change the name under most of the reservations. And if it’s still charged under the same credit card info we gave them, there shouldn’t be a problem. Some places might charge a small fee for altering it, and there might be some procedures we need to take to prove that we agree to that, but I don’t see how it wouldn’t work. We can do the same for the plane tickets and the other stuff as well.”

“That’s—that’s actually a really good idea, Cas. I feel like a bad brother to not have thought of it.”

“People sometimes did it at the hotel. That’s why I thought of it. I don’t think it’s an option _everywhere_, but we could try and see if it works.”

And after a few calls, Castiel and Dean were happy to have found an option where all their preparation hadn’t been useless.

Castiel had suggested to Dean that they should perhaps verify with his brother and his wife if they would be available before they started changing everything, but Dean stubbornly shook his head.

“If I tell Sam that we are _thinking _of not going on this trip and want _them _to go instead of us, he’ll refuse. If I call them after we changed everything already, he’s more likely to accept.”

While it was impossible to know for sure if Sam and Jessica would have accepted or not before they had made their modifications, it turned out that Dean was right about the latter.

Sam offered some resistance at first, which prompted an I-told-you-so look from Dean to Castiel, but once Dean had made it very clear that the damage had been done already, and all they had to do was to enjoy a planned and paid holiday, Sam eventually caved in and gratefully accepted their gift.

With this issue out of the way, Castiel and Dean were left to focus on handling the uneasiness between them in order to return to how things were before.

But, of course, it was difficult.

Even if plenty had been said, there were also lots of things—perhaps too many—that had been left unsaid as well.

While the awkwardness wasn’t that overwhelming, it still wasn’t like it used to be between them.

Castiel gave Dean some space, as he had pledged to do, and hadn’t brought up anything regarding their fight, what Dean had said, or even Henry’s letter.

Neither did Dean.

Castiel evidently knew they wouldn’t be able to avoid everything forever—nor that they should—but like their trip, he judged that for now, hitting the pause button was the best option for them.

But Castiel couldn’t remember being so focused on what he should say or shouldn’t say. And by the way Dean spoke to him, he could tell he was weighing every word he uttered as well.

And as if this hadn’t been taxing enough on his soul, Castiel also had to deal with the aftermath of his new-found _reputation_.

This was the only element connected to the fight that they had broached since then.

Since Hannah’s visit, Castiel had ignored every call, text and email he had received. From anyone. He had only used his phone once, and it had been when Donna had called him to inquire about Dean’s whereabouts on the night of the fight.

That was it.

And although he knew he wouldn’t be able to ignore this indefinitely, he was in no hurry to find out what people had possibly found necessary to share to him on this subject.

But Dean had questioned Castiel if anyone had contacted him about this issue, and once Castiel had told Dean he had avoided his phone and email at all cost, Dean suggested that he should take the time and verify his messages.

“Why?” asked Castiel. “It’s not like I don’t know what they’ll say.”

Dean lowered his eyes. “Yeah. I—I hate to say it, Cas, but I—if it was up to me, I’d tell you to just do exactly that—ignore it all—but I think we should be vigilant about that. I—I was talking to Jody and, um, she’d like to see anything you’ve received that is remotely hostile.”

Castiel fought hard the urge to roll his eyes. “I mean no offense to Sheriff Mills, but what could that possibly change? It’s just angry, bored, id—” He took a deep breath. “It won’t change anything.”

“Probably not. But when I told Jody about it, she said that it would be a good idea to double check in case some of the stuff you might have received matched the ones I received back in September.”

Castiel hadn’t thought of that.

“I doubt it will lead to anything. I mean, part of me hopes it doesn’t, because—but I think she’s right,” said Dean. “Better safe than sorry, no?”

Thus, Castiel braced himself and looked at his messages.

On the upside, he was relieved to discover that there were far less messages (email and text) than what he had anticipated. On the downside, there were still too many for his liking and distasteful messages were evidently never pleasant to read. Especially not when they came from people who he had considered to be his friends.

There had also been messages from people he had never met in his life.

And, of course, anonymous messages.

Although he had never read the ones Dean had received, Castiel doubted these were the same thing. From what he had understood, Dean’s had directly been linked to the ranch. These were linked to Castiel himself and even, of course, his family history.

Nevertheless, as he had agreed to do so, he carefully read all of them to see if anything would stand out, and forwarded every antagonistic message (anonymous or not) to Jody.

“Thank you, Castiel, for sending me these. I will look into it,” she had said to him over the phone. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“I don’t think it’s connected to what happened before though, as you’ll see when you read them.”

“Nevertheless, I’m really glad you didn’t simply delete everything. If there’s something else, or if they continue and it gets worse, call me, okay?”

“I will.”

“What about social media? Are people—has there been other comments there?”

“I’ve always made a point to avoid social media exactly for that reason. I don’t have any accounts. On anything. I never have. And I’m evidently not planning on getting one now.”

“All right,” she said, sighing. “Well, thank you for trusting me with this. I hope it will get better. But know that we have your back here, okay?”

Castiel almost felt a lump growing in his throat. “Okay. Thank you, Jody.”

Besides the impressive amount of hate mail and stupid comments, which had been incredibly depressing, Castiel had nonetheless been extremely glad to have taken the time to go through it all, because it had allowed him to see that at least one person had tried to contact him for news of his well-being and expressing his support.

Balthazar.

Even though he had said nothing whatsoever regarding the rumors in his messages, it was obvious that Balthazar knew about them. The number of messages he had left him was a big indication of this, as he had texted, emailed and called Castiel nearly every day since. Which was why, once Castiel had read every single one of his friend’s messages, he called him right away.

“Bloody hell, where the fuck have you been? Why hadn’t you called me back?”

“I’m sorry, Balthazar. I—I, um, I’ve been avoiding my phone and—everything. I just saw your messages.”

“Are you okay? Like, obviously, you’re probably—I…there is a lot of crazy shit roaming about here and I—I—” He stopped, evidently hesitating on what to say.

“It’s okay, Balthazar. I know. That’s why I was avoiding my phone.”

“Fuck. How?”

“Well, Hannah told me. Not in a—anyway. It was already brewing in the air well before that it seems. But I suppose when Naomi officially fired me, that’s when people decided to share their, um, _feelings _on the matter directly with me.”

“I swear if one fucker said something remotely—”

“They did. And they weren’t shy about it.”

“Fucking arseholes. And wait—what do you mean fired?”

Castiel frowned. “You didn’t know this?”

“No! Not at all. The story we’re told here is that you quit. Which I had a lot of difficulty believing.”

Castiel swallowed. “I didn’t quit. Per se. I—Naomi insisted that I hadn’t respected the guidelines of my leave, and based on the, um—nature—of some of the rumors linked to the whole thing…She gave me the option to immediately come back home and supposedly plead my case, but—”

“You knew what the answer would be.”

“She probably just mentioned it on paper so it would seem like she did everything by the book, even though she clearly didn’t.”

“Un-bloody-fucking-real. What a bunch of wankers, the lot of them.”

“Look, never mind them. I’m—I was actually calling to say thank you. For what you said. I—you’re the only one who didn’t send me something awful and took the time to say something nice and caring. So, thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that. The other people who aren’t standing up for you are the ones who owe you a bloody apology. Even if they haven’t sent you shitty messages, they shouldn’t have just dropped you either.”

Castiel looked down, nodding. “I know, but…I knew—I’m not surprised this happened. But I’m grateful you’re not like that. It really means a lot.”

“It’s no problem mate.” Castiel overheard some noise in the background, with someone saying something incomprehensible. “Shit, I have to go,” said Balthazar.

“Of course, you must be working.”

“Cassie, wait, before I go—I’ll call you back later—but before I go, are you sure you’re okay?”

Castiel bit the inside of his cheek. “I’ll be okay. I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’ll figure it out.”

Balthazar let out a sigh. “All right. I have about eighteen million other questions, but for now, I’ll just say take care of yourself. And call if you need to vent or something.”

Castiel let out a short laugh. He promised he would, and said goodbye, after thanking him once more. He hung up the phone, feeling relieved and happy that at least Balthazar had remained loyal and a true friend to him.

He turned around and jumped, when he realized Dean was standing in the room.

“Sorry,” said Dean. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Castiel, one hand on his chest, said, “It’s okay. I—I just didn’t hear you.”

“Is—is everything okay?”

Castiel momentarily frowned until he understood Dean was inquiring about the phone call.

Castiel nodded, catching his breath. “Um, yes, actually. Well—okay, perhaps not everything. I—I was checking up on my messages like we talked about.”

Dean lowered his eyes.

“I did like you said and sent the messages to Jody.”

“That was Jody?”

“No. I did that before. I was just returning a call to my friend. Balthazar. He actually isn’t—he wanted to check up on me. He’s the only one who—anyway, I called him just to let him know I was okay.”

For half a moment, Castiel thought he had discerned something in Dean’s eyes. An odd expression appeared on his face, but before Castiel could assess it properly, it had seemed to vanish as quickly as it had appeared.

“That’s good. I’m glad. I’m sure more people will too, Cas,” he said in a genuine voice.

Nothing much else happened until the day before Jessica and Sam were to return.

And unbeknownst to Castiel, that day would turn out to be quite eventful.

It began with him waking up when Dean had quietly left the bed and went straight to the bathroom, leaving the door slightly open, as to not create unnecessary disturbance.

Castiel hadn’t woken up because Dean had been noisy. Or because he had moved too briskly.

No.

It was because, with the nights getting colder, Castiel had instantly felt Dean’s body warmth leave the bed.

Even if they weren’t touching.

Castiel wasn’t sure what time it was, but given how painful it was to open his eyes, he concluded it must have been very early in the morning still.

Now that Dean was gone, Castiel grabbed all the bed covers and pulled them over him. He heard the water running in the shower. His eyes were still closed and he could imagine how warm water would be very pleasant in that moment.

He slowly felt sleep was catching up to him again. His body was heavy. And his breathing was slow.

And then he heard it.

Dean was moaning.

Castiel snapped his eyes open and held his breath.

And listened.

It was faint.

Barely discernible.

But still undeniably present.

Whenever this would happen, Castiel would simply swing the covers off of himself, and leave the room promptly.

He had left in a less hurried manner once or twice before, but he still had left the room long before Dean was done with his shower.

But that morning, Castiel stayed in bed, perfectly still.

Ethically speaking, he knew this was crossing a line. As far as he gathered, Dean wasn’t aware Castiel could hear him.

But he had done it so many times now, and given everything else, Castiel started questioning Dean’s _ignorance _on the matter.

Nevertheless, the point remained that on that morning, Castiel, listening to Dean masturbating, could not master the will to leave the room and give Dean his privacy.

He lay on his back, snuggled up warmly underneath heavy and thick covers, and paid close attention to the moans he could hear over the running water.

With his heartbeat increasing, he swallowed and slowly turned himself on his stomach.

And he didn’t do anything else. He didn’t move. Or touch. Or rub against anything.

He shut his eyes and listened, as he fought the urge to burst into that bathroom.

After a muffled groan, he heard the water stop. Long minutes passed and he heard the door open.

Lying on his stomach with his eyes shut, making sure to not move a muscle, he could feel Dean’s stare on him, as he was no doubt trying to assess if he was truly sleeping or not.

Even though he could not see him, he was positive Dean was standing at the foot of the bed.

And did nothing.

But watch him.

Castiel’s heart was pounding, and staying still was becoming excruciating by the second.

Wondering what Dean was thinking.

Wondering if he would say something.

Or wanted to go back to bed.

And just as Castiel was debating if he should simply shift onto his back and look Dean straight in the eyes, he heard him walk towards the dresser, pick up a few things and exit the room.

After he waited a good minute, making sure Dean had really left the room, Castiel exhaled loudly, realizing he had been holding his breath.

He joined Dean in the kitchen nearly half an hour later to eat breakfast.

Dean, quietly eating his large bowl of cereal with bananas and blueberries, seemed to be his usual self.

Castiel discreetly glanced at him every chance he got, even though the last thing he wanted to do in that moment was to look at Dean.

Not because he was angry with him.

It was because he feared that the truth would be written all over his face.

But Dean was apparently extremely focused on his breakfast and didn’t seem to notice Castiel was paying him particular attention that morning.

Once they left for work, however, Castiel got his mind occupied on other matters quickly, when they had to deal with the heavy snowfall that had occurred during the night.

Everything was still operational, but the snow had considerably slowed down the whole place. Just reaching the main building by foot from the house had been a hassle for them.

Many things got delayed, and the day turned into a blur, so much so that Castiel soon forgot about how his day had begun.

In the afternoon, despite the chaos the snow had created, Dean seemed particularly chipper when he ran into him as he was leaving the stables.

After Castiel questioned him about it, Dean, holding down his grin, said, “I really want to tell you now, but we should wait until dinner.”

Castiel squinted at him. “Can you give me a clue?”

“It’s about the ranch. It’s good news about the ranch.”

The rest of the day went by quickly, and after preparing dinner, when they were seated at their nice dinning table, he asked, “What’s the big news?”

Dean was smiling as he chewed on his homemade dumpling.

“I had a call this morning. Potential investors.”

“And that’s good. Right?”

“Yes, these ones are. Granddad was very picky with his investors. He learned to be, to keep the ranch as is. And even then…well, you know.”

“So what makes you trust them?”

“Well, they were among the top ones Granddad was eyeing right before he passed away. As you know, he was, um, sort of trying to clean house.”

Castiel nodded, picking green beans from his plate with his chopsticks.

“And because of that,” continued Dean, “he was looking around for potential new investors, and Dr. Hess, who called this morning, was among them. Granddad was actually acquainted with her.”

“Dr.?”

“Yeah. Don’t ask me of what. It’s like a freaking mystery or something. I don’t even know her first name. It’s a thing. Anyway, she’s from Kendricks.”

Castiel froze. “You mean, the—only—”

“Yes, Roman Industries’ prime competitor.”

“And what she’s offering is…fair?”

“It is. Surprisingly. Anyway, we—Granddad and me—had approached her last summer and it looked promising, but then Granddad passed away. So, um, I had to hit the breaks on that because no major decisions regarding the ranch can be made until the six months are over. But—um, also Hess kind of retreated away from us after Granddad passed. I don’t think she valued the ranch as much anymore since he—since I’m in charge. _Ish_.”

“But she changed her mind?”

“She did. Even though we obviously didn’t do anything major since then, as we can’t, she came back on her decision and would like to sit down.”

“That’s great Dean.”

“It is. You have—” he let out a deep sigh. “This is gonna make all the difference. It’s not a done deal, of course, but it looks pretty good so far. I’m to have a meeting with her and her, um, _team_. I already spoke to a few of them. I don’t want to be mean, but they kinda look a bit uptight. Well, except Mick Davies. He wasn’t that bad. Anyway, if this works out, now all we have to do is to get Adler off my back and find everyone who has been doing damage to the ranch. And prove it.”

Dean’s cheerfulness suddenly dissipated as he reflected on the gigantic task.

“And how is it going with that?”

Dean pursed his lips and shifted in his seat. “Um, not as much headway as I would have hoped so far,” he admitted, feeling glum.

“Sorry. Maybe everything is stagnant right now because nothing can be done until the six months? Maybe revelations will surface as we approach the deadline.”

‘That’s what I’m worried about,” said Dean, after taking a sip of his wine. “If that happens, it will be because they’re be desperate and that will probably mean drama. I’ve had enough drama for a lifetime, thank you. I think we both have.”

They finished the rest of their meal discussing Sam and Jessica’s pending arrival on the following day, both eager to find out how everything had worked out.

The rest of the evening was spent quietly. Dean, seated at the dinning table with his laptop, was busy replying to some emails and reviewing a few resumes people had already sent for the extra help they would need in the spring, while Castiel was lounging on the couch, reading his third classic novel of the month.

Although they weren’t technically spending their time together, Castiel still enjoyed that Dean was present at home and with him, instead of shut off in his office.

Later on that same night, Castiel was abruptly woken up in bed when something fell on his stomach.

Confused, he opened his eyes, trying to assess the situation.

Dean was glued to him, lying on his side, holding on to him tightly with one arm wrapped around his stomach, and his head resting on his shoulder.

With a quick glance, Castiel could see that Dean was sleeping.

Castiel was in a bit of a shock.

And although he felt momentarily uncomfortable, he also found the situation somewhat humorous.

And _not _unpleasant.

But he evidently felt obligated to say something, and just as he was about to do so, Dean moved his hips against Castiel’s side.

He slowly slid one leg over Castiel’s and rocked his hips again. His fingers tightened on Castiel’s shirt, pulling Castiel closer to him.

And twisted his hips again.

And again.

And again.

It was clear that Dean wasn’t simply repositioning himself, but was rather slowly grinding against Castiel’s thigh. In his sleep. And despite the fact that they were both wearing pajamas, there was no point in denying that Castiel could feel Dean’s erection against him.

When Dean let out a small moan, however, he knew he had to say something or the situation would take a turn for him as well.

Castiel gently reached out to Dean’s fingers and took hold of his hand.

“Dean? Wake up,” he calmly said.

Dean hesitated for a moment, but continued.

“Dean?” he repeated, and this time he delicately shook his hand.

And that did the trick. Dean immediately froze, his eyes snapped open and he quickly lifted his head to meet Castiel’s eyes.

That was when he realized the situation. That he had an arm and a leg wrapped around Castiel, with a boner, no less. Dean immediately let go of Castiel. He pushed himself away from him, turned on his back, and covered his eyes with both his hands.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I’m—”

“Dean. It’s—don’t worry. I know—you were sleeping.”

“I just—shit,” he said, turning on his other side, remembering that he still had an erection and was now pitching a tent when lying on his back. He hurriedly pulled the thick bed covers to his waist, the ones which had been pushed to his ankles in his stirring.

“Dean, I told you. It’s okay. Honestly, I—I’m surprised it hadn’t happened before. For, um, either of us.”

Dean remained silent with his back turned to Castiel.

Now lying on his side and looking at Dean’s back, Castiel reached out to Dean’s shoulder and gently squeezed it. Castiel instantly felt Dean quiver at his touch.

“Dean?”

Not knowing why, Castiel left his hand there and brushed his thumb on his shoulder.

Dean’s fingers met Castiel’s, and expecting him to push his hand away, Castiel was surprised when Dean twisted himself to face him.

While still holding his hand.

Remaining silent, they stared at each other. And as the seconds added on, Castiel’s mind was rapidly filled with certain ideas.

After staring at Dean licking his lips, Castiel let go of Dean’s hand and lifted his own to Dean’s neck. He then slowly slid his hand on his shoulder and along his upper arm. Dean didn’t move a muscle, but his eyes followed Castiel’s hand.

Then Castiel moved his hand to his waist, and then to his hip, which was under the covers.

And when his fingertips reached a bit of exposed skin in between Dean’s pajama top and pants, Dean shuddered.

His eyes turned to Castiel.

Without diverting his gaze, Castiel slid his fingers right below Dean’s belly button.

Dean trembled again.

“Cas, what—what are you doing?”

And Castiel, not being able to stop himself, said, “I can help. I can help if you want.”

His heart beating in his throat, Castiel shifted himself closer to him. “Dean? Do you want me to?”

“Cas, you don’t have to—I’m—” Dean swallowed, failing to speak audibly.

He could feel Dean’s breath against his lips.

“I know. But I’ll help if you want.”

Dean swallowed again. Castiel did not move his hand further and stared at his lips, resisting the urge to nibble on them.

“I want to,” he said in a low voice. “I want to, Dean. Do you want to?”

And in a whimper, Dean said, “Yes.”

And Castiel slipped his hand under Dean’s pajama pants and took hold of Dean’s cock. Dean immediately groaned at the touch.

Castiel delicately circled his thumb over the tip of Dean’s cock, which was already dripping, and then slid his hand downwards to give it a few strokes.

The second he did, Dean gasped, and shut his eyes tightly.

Dean, against his desire, momentarily stopped Castiel to quickly push down his pants a bit, in order to render it easier for him. Castiel took the opportunity to lick his fingers and generously wet them with saliva.

Dean stared at him.

“Is this okay?” asked Castiel. “Or do you want to use—”

Dean shook his head. “No, don’t stop. I mean—just—”

And Castiel wrapped his hand around his hot cock again, and moved his fist up and down his shaft.

Dean let out a moan and, pulling himself closer, he leaned his head against Castiel’s neck. Castiel could feel Dean’s breath right below his ear right, giving him tingles on his lower back.

Castiel quickened his strokes, listening to Dean pant in his ear.

“Is this helping?” he said, smirking, and eased his hand with one lingering stroke.

Dean groaned as a response.

With Dean breathing heavily against him.

With his swollen cock in his hand.

And with him trembling at his strokes.

Castiel felt the frenzy building up within him. Greatly annoyed that his other arm was uselessly stuck underneath his own body, Castiel yearned for Dean’s warm touch.

As if he had read his mind, Dean then ran his free hand along Castiel’s back, while he pressed himself even more against him. Castiel quivered at Dean’s craving touch and moved his hips, feeling his discomfort in his pants.

Dean then gripped Castiel’s waist, for a better hold, and began thrusting into Castiel’s hand, whispering his name.

And Castiel jolted when he felt a warm tongue swirling on his neck.

And Dean eased his fingers at the edge of Castiel’s pajama pants. Slid them underneath, slowly nearing his ass.

But he stopped.

And withdrew his hand.

“Cas? Do you—do you want—”

“Yes. Do it. Off. Take it off.”

Dean lifted himself with his elbow, gripped the edge of Castiel’s pants and underwear, and pulled everything off eagerly.

Repositioning himself, Castiel helped Dean out of his shirt and Dean gently nudged him on his back.

He hovered over him, staring at him for a moment, and leaned in.

Castiel, thinking he was finally reaching for a kiss, lifted his head to meet his lips, but Dean smiled and aimed at his throat, giving him a long lick of his wet tongue. Frustrated, Castiel groaned, and Dean pressed himself against him, as he continued licking his collarbone.

Pushing himself downwards and away from Castiel’s neck, Dean smiled at the sensation of Castiel’s hard cock underneath him. His chest over Castiel’s groin, he gently slid upwards Castiel’s pajama top he was still wearing, revealing his stomach for him.

Making Castiel quiver, Dean caressed his abdomen with his fingers.

With his lips.

With his tongue.

Excruciatingly slow.

Making his way downwards.

While Castiel melted underneath him.

Castiel, biting on his lips, rolled his hips against him, demanding more.

Dean was moaning his name.

Castiel gripped the sheets.

“Cas.”

He felt Dean lifting himself. His hands holding him by his shoulders.

“Cas?”

Dean slightly tightened his grip, and shook him delicately.

“Cas.”

Castiel looked at him disconcerted.

“Dean—what—”

“Cas, wake up. You need to wake up.”

Castiel snapped his eyes open. Dean was looking at him with one of his hands on his shoulder. A bit dazed, but alert enough to feel the blood rushing to his cheeks, as he realized he had been dreaming—and what he had been dreaming—Castiel held his breath and, feeling his heart still racing, couldn’t do anything but stare back at Dean.

With half a mind to reach out to him, that thought, however, was interrupted when Dean whispered quickly, “Cas, don’t panic, but there’s someone in the house.”

His entire body stiffened and he sat up quickly.

Still holding him by the shoulder, Dean tried to reassure him. “It’s okay. I pressed on the alarm thing that Rufus gave us and dialed 9-1-1 like Jody said to do.”

A commotion occurred down the hall that made both of them jump. Holding his breath, Castiel turned to Dean, terrified.

“I’ll go check,” said Dean, sliding himself off at the foot of the bed.

“Dean, no,” he whispered.

Dean grabbed something underneath the bed, while carefully eyeing the door, and retrieved a baseball bat.

Quietly as possible, he skirted the rest of the bed to meet Castiel, who was sitting at the edge.

Castiel immediately grabbed his arm and pulled him closer.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he whispered anxiously.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Dean, no. Please.”

Dean handed Castiel his phone. “You keep this, 9-1-1 is still on the line.”

Dean started stepping towards the doorway, but Castiel, still holding his arm and not ready to let go, restrained him.

Dean mouthed to him, “It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”

Castiel shook his head and tightened his hold even more.

Dean opened his mouth to say something else, but the sound of something falling on the ground just outside in the hallway made him stop.

Whoever was present, they weren’t far anymore. They were no longer in the living room. They were almost at their doorway.

With pleading eyes, Dean told Castiel to let him go. “Stay here,” he whispered in his ear, and without thinking, he hugged him and briefly kissed his hair. Dean walked towards to entrance ridiculously slow, making sure to not make any sound indicating to the intruder that they were awake.

Half of Castiel wanted to go after Dean, but terrified that if he moved the bed would make a sound, he stayed on the edge of the bed. Holding his breath, he watched, with great anguish as Dean carefully peaked outside the doorway.

And the moment he did, the intruder jumped into the doorway, and Dean, despite having a baseball bat, which he swung at his first chance, was pushed against the wall violently.

He had struck the intruder, causing him to lose his balance for a moment, but the foe had recovered quickly and dodged the second swing. He slammed Dean against the wall once more and punched him twice in his stomach. A hollow cry escaped from Dean’s mouth after his second hit and Dean fell on his knees.

That was when Castiel finally regained his mobile functions and charged at the intruder. He grabbed Dean’s bat and hit the assailant hard on his arm and leg. The intruder, clearly wounded this time, still managed to get hold of the bat. Both wrestling for it, Castiel surged against him, causing them to wind up in the hallway, where a few picture frames hanging on the wall fell and broke, hitting the ground.

“Cas. Cas?” he heard Dean cry in a hollow broken voice from the bedroom.

His moment of hesitation at hearing Dean’s voice gave the intruder the chance to shove Castiel into the wall, causing him to cut his breath at the sharp pain on his back.

His legs gave out, and as Castiel was still holding on to the bat, as was the attacker, he fell on the floor, dragging the other guy with him.

Confused with their stumble, they both let go of the bat, which rolled away from them.

The man was on top of him. Castiel, catching his breath, was trying to free himself from under him.

And then he felt hands around his neck.

Tightening their grip.

The attacker was sitting on his stomach, keeping him still. Panicking, Castiel was hitting him on his chest to push him off, but the man stayed still. Castiel then gripped the man’s wrist and dug his fingernails deeply into his skin, hoping it would loosen his hold.

“Get off of him!”

Dean, back on his feet, urgently pulled the man backwards, freeing Castiel from his grasp. The struggle between Dean and the intruder continued, until Castiel heard a loud thump of someone dropping to the floor.

Gasping for air, Castiel sat up as best he could to see if Dean was safe.

The intruder was on the ground, inert, and Dean was standing next to him, shaking his right hand, as if it was painful after punching the guy.

Dean’s face conveyed relief for a moment once he saw that Castiel was all right, but his expression quickly turned to fear when his gaze lifted a little higher than where Castiel was.

“Cas, look out!” he shouted.

And before Castiel had the time to register Dean’s words, strong hands gripped him tightly on his shoulders and dragged him backwards and down the hallway.

“No!”

Castiel twisted himself, desperate to free himself of an assailant once more, but this time he wasn’t so lucky. He could see Dean running after him.

But the moment he turned the corner, another man slammed into Dean, and knocked his head into the wall.

“Dean, no!”

Dean fell to the ground.

Castiel was paralyzed.

And Dean stirred a little, muttering something.

His assailant walked towards him and lifted one foot, ready to thump him.

“Easy, asshole,” said the guy holding Castiel. “We don’t want him dead. _He_’s nothing to us dead. Neither is he,” he added, shaking Castiel.

Dean’s attacker shrugged. He moved away from Dean and walked towards Castiel and the other intruder.

Both holding a firm tight on him, by his shoulders and arms, they lifted him up to his feet.

“What do you—” started saying Castiel, but he was immediately silenced when one of them put their hands on his mouth.

“Shhh. You listen. For good, this time,” said one of them. “The message is very clear: you go home. Wherever the fuck that is, as long as it’s not here. You got that? You—”

“Hey!” shouted someone, standing at the front door, which was now wide-open.

“Fuck! Run.”

Both men immediately let go of Castiel and ran towards the patio door. Castiel fell on his knees as Rufus hurried towards him.

“Cas?”

“I’m fine. Go after them, please,” he said in a hoarse voice.

Rufus nodded, and before heading towards the patio door, he told him, “Jody is on her way, and more of the ranch’s security will be here shortly.”

The moment Rufus left, Castiel immediately hastened to Dean’s side. With his legs still wavering from the trauma, he dragged himself on all fours next to Dean, who was still lying on his side.

“Dean?”

Castiel rested his hand on Dean’s chest.

And when he felt his chest slightly move from breathing, followed by Dean instantly reaching out for his hand, Castiel nearly started crying from relief.

“Dean? Can you talk?” he croaked. Speaking was painful, but he needed to know Dean was okay.

He stroked Dean’s temple and his fingers touched something wet. He realized it was blood.

“Fuck, Dean, please. Are you—”

Dean took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

“Cas?”

Castiel swore out of relief.

After sitting up quickly, Dean flinched. He lifted his hand to his temple, but Castiel pushed his hand away.

“Easy, Dean. Take it easy.”

“My head feels like—” he tried to touch his temple again, but Castiel held his hand and kept his hold on him. “You got hit pretty bad. You’re bleeding.” Castiel swallowed hard. His throat hurt badly, but he couldn’t stay silent. “You might have a concussion. Relax.”

Not long afterwards, Rufus came back accompanied by Jody and one of her officers. They helped Castiel and Dean back on their feet.

“What—what about—”

“These guys are like freaking magicians. I stepped outside and they were nowhere to be seen. They must have run around on the porch, so we can’t know which trail from the house to take. And I’m pretty sure they split up. Don’t worry, Donna and Bobby are following a trail leading to the woods, and half the ranch and Jody’s men are looking everywhere else.”

Jody lifted an eyebrow. “Men?”

“I mean Jody’s manpower. Sheriff Mills’ manpower. Officers. Come on, now. I—you know I’m not like that.”

Jody smirked.

Castiel quickly informed them that Dean needed immediate attention and that there was another assailant unconscious in the hallway.

After the man regained consciousness, and evidently remained silent, Jody, with the help of her deputy, cuffed him and carried the intruder out of the house. But before she did, she asked Castiel and Dean to have a good look at him for potential identification.

Both of them shook their heads.

“I’ve never seen this guy in my life,” said Dean.

While a large portion of the ranch employees were occupied to search the grounds (still remaining as discreet as they could, considering they had guests at the ranch), Tasha and her twins arrived at the house to help Castiel and Dean with their injuries.

She wasn’t a doctor, but usually, whenever someone would sustain a major injury at the ranch (which usually was nothing more than broken bones, pulled muscles or a few superficial cuts), she was the one to give a preliminary diagnosis and she had never been wrong so far.

Tasha had evaluated that Dean, despite his understandable headache, wasn’t showing any other signs of a concussion and that he should be fine. She firmly suggested, however, that after they answer Jody’s questions, they should go to the hospital to make sure.

Dean made a face of disagreement, but Castiel said, in a croaking voice and looking at him firmly, “We’re going.”

After Tasha had examined Castiel’s throat, she asked Alicia to help her make hot beverages for everyone, and Max tended to Dean’s bloody temple.

Castiel and Dean relayed the whole gruesome tale to Jody and Rufus, while the Banes family were dotting over them. They gave brief descriptions of the other two men as much as they could.

Just as Jody was about to wrap up to let Castiel and Dean go to the hospital, Donna knocked on the patio door.

Max let her in, and she said gleefully, “We got one.”

“Really? How?”

“Where is he?”

“He’s out back,” said Bobby, who had now stepped into the house as well. “We just handed him into the custody of one of your officers, Sheriff Mills.”

“How did you get him, Bobby?” asked Rufus.

But Bobby shook his head. “Don’t look at me,” said Bobby. He pointed at Donna, “She’s the badass who cornered him. You should have seen it. She tackled the guy to the ground, no hesitation. Never saw it coming.”

“That’s amazing, Miss Hanscum. Well done,” said Jody.

“Pleasure. Doing my duty as a civilian, that’s all, Sheriff.”

Donna showed Dean and Castiel the mug shot she had taken of the runner they had captured, but once again, neither of them recognized him.

“Not that I want to sound negative, but what about the third perp?” asked Jody. “He wasn’t anywhere in sight?”

Both Bobby and Donna shook their heads. “There’s another team, accompanied by two of your officers, that’s following the other trail leading to the woods. So, hopefully that will pan out. We seriously doubt they lingered around the ranch. We know everyone and this time we were prepared.”

“I still don’t get how they managed to disappear so quickly,” said Rufus, “but there is no way they could have headed towards any other building without us noticing. Everyone had their own spot assigned, and some of us were scouring the grounds. They left through the woods, which is…um…”

“Worrisome,” said Dean.

“Anywhere else they could be hiding past this house?”

“There are a few properties being built but—”

“Nah, we checked those,” said Rufus. “No trail leading there. And after the heavy snow we had, it would have been obvious. We double checked for good measure, but nobody was there.”

“The cabin,” suggested Castiel with difficulty.

Dean immediately understood what Castiel had meant and clenched his jaw at the idea. Castiel felt the same.

“What cabin?” asked Jody.

“Granddad’s old cabin.”

Donna held her breath.

“We’ll go check on that one, Dean,” said Bobby, zipping his coat. “But I doubt they’d be there. The trails were leading into the woods.”

“But there’s nothing there. Why would they head that way?” asked Alicia.

“Maybe they have other means of transportation waiting for them there,” argued Jody. “Or this was only meant as a temporary hide-out until they figured they’d be safe to come back here and leave undetected. There were three of them. I don’t know if they meant to do more than what they did, but I don’t think they were planning on being chased after.”

Shortly after that, most of everyone left the house. Jody was going to speak to Rufus and his team, as well as Donna and Bobby about how they had apprehended the attacker.

And she wanted, of course, to speak to the two intruders, but this would be done at the station, away from the ranch. Alicia and Max were quickly washing and drying the cups everyone had used while Tasha was giving last minute advice to Castiel and Dean about their injuries.

“I think you will both be fine, but just in case, do as I say and go to the hospital.”

“Do we really have to?” whined Dean. “I’m fine.”

“I think you are, too, but get your head scanned to be sure, okay,” she said, looking at Dean.

Dean was about to protest, but Castiel tugged on his arm, and after one look at him, he sighed and nodded.

“They will tell you all this at the hospital,” continued Tasha, “but just to be safe, I think you should treat this as a concussion. Even if you don’t have one, sometimes, despite the scan, there could still be an injury. So, treating it accordingly would be a good idea. You know what that entails?”

“No operating heavy machinery and stuff?” said Dean.

“Yes. No horses, either,” she said, smiling. “Nothing strenuous. Basically, take it easy for the next few days. Especially the next forty-eight hours.”

“Peachy.”

“And don’t sleep for the next few hours at the very least. Then you can take a nap if you want,” she said, then turned to Castiel, “but you have to check up on him.”

Castiel nodded. “Every two hours. And I don’t have to wake him, but make sure he’s okay.”

“That’s right,” she nodded.

Dean frowned. “How do you know that?”

“_Dr. Sexy M.D_.”

Dean burst into laughter. “What? When?”

“Third season. Single dad had a hit and run. I remember what they said.”

“Do you know what other symptoms you should look at?” asked Tasha, amused.

“Vomiting. Dizziness. Memory loss. And other very obvious physical signs like bleeding from the ears.”

Dean anxiously turned his eyes towards Tasha.

“Don’t worry, Dean. I think you’ll be fine and you’re obviously in good hands. But you should have a proper check up, just to be certain.”

She buttoned her coat and called out to Alicia and Max to get ready.

“Go to the hospital, listen to what they say, come back and relax. Both of you. And no pain medication because that could hide symptoms,” she said, warningly pointing her index finger at Dean.

Dean nodded.

Max offered to drive them to the hospital, but Castiel, after thanking him for his generous offer, told him that he wouldn’t have any trouble doing so and that he and his family should get some rest they deserved after all their help.

“You sure?” asked Dean. “Not that I don’t trust you, but you too went through a lot tonight,” said Dean, after the Banes family had left.

But Castiel smiled and grabbed the keys.

With Dean’s directions, Castiel drove them to hospital. Miraculously, they didn’t have to wait too long and Dean got to see a doctor almost right away.

Castiel also got his throat checked out, but just as Tasha had said, it wasn’t anything major and after a few days of rest and drinking warm liquid to help soothe his throat, he would soon be back to normal.

Same as for Castiel, Dean’s CT scan turned out perfectly fine with no signs of injury to his brain.

The doctor repeated warnings and symptoms to look out for that Tasha had warned them about, and told them to immediately come back if that should occur.

But, given Dean’s state and his positive scan, the doctor told them he shouldn’t have any issues.

It was still dark outside by the time they came back home. Jody and her officers were no longer at the ranch, and while Dean wanted to stop at the main building to have updates on the situation (and find out if any of the drama had perturbed some of the guests), Castiel shook his head and drove them back to the house directly.

“You’re supposed to relax. That’s not relaxing.”

“Not knowing anything is stressing me out, Cas,” he said, stepping out of the car.

Castiel took a deep breath. “Dean, even if you go there right now, and Donna tells you that they still don’t know anything or that there’s an emergency at work,” he took a pause, swallowing hard, “what is that going to change? You are supposed to stay clear of it.”

Dean pursed his lips. “But if she tells me everything is under control, then I’ll be less worried.”

Castiel chuckled. “And you think that she’s going to tell you otherwise? That they don’t have everything under control?”

Dean rolled his eyes.

“How about you let the morning pass and by lunchtime, if we haven’t heard anything, you can call and ask if there’s an update?”

Dean sighed. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“_I’m_ relentless?”

“Fine. We’ll wait until lunchtime.”

Once back in the house, they started discussing what they should do.

“Are you tired?” asked Castiel. He looked at his phone for the time. “It’s been a few hours. You would be okay to take a nap if you want.”

Dean thought for a moment and said, “I’m actually not tired. I mean, I am, but I’m not exhausted or sleepy. Must be the adrenaline or something.”

Castiel nodded.

“You?” asked Dean.

“Same. But I really want to take a shower. I feel—I want to wash this whole thing off of me.”

“I hear you.”

Castiel was about to ask Dean how he was feeling in the overall of the attack, when Dean’s stomach growled loudly, making them both laugh.

“Um, apparently I’m hungry, too.”

They decided they should each take a shower, and then Castiel would make them something to eat.

“If I take mine first, I could start breakfast while you take yours,” proposed Dean.

“You aren’t suppose to do anything demanding,” Castiel reminded him.

“Cas, I think I’ll make it if I look at slices of bacon and eggs frying on a pan.”

Castiel squinted at him and shook his head. “Wait for me? Please?”

Dean observed him a moment. “Okay. I’ll wait.”

Castiel let Dean have his shower first. There had been this awkward moment when Castiel wondered if he should help him, in case Dean became dizzy, so he wouldn’t slip. Wanting safety above everything else, he asked Dean about it.

Dean, evidently reflecting on the matter, had hesitated with his answer. Almost as if he had been tempted by the offer. But he said, “I—I’ll be fine.”

Dean disappeared into the bathroom, and after Castiel had laid out clean and comfy clothes for the both of them, he sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for Dean to be finished.

A few minutes later, he heard the water stop and Dean step out of the shower.

The door opened and Dean walked in wearing a towel around his waist. He paused a moment when he registered that Castiel was sitting there, patiently waiting for his turn. Castiel’s eyes fell on Dean’s tattoo, which he had forgotten about until this very moment.

His eyes also diverted to his wet abs.

“All yours.” Dean cleared his throat and gunned for his clothes.

Castiel went to the bathroom with his change of clothes in hand, while making sure to glance back at Dean once or twice before shutting the door behind him.

He undressed himself and stepped into the shower quickly, letting the warm water soothe him.

After his shower, Castiel dressed quickly and hurried out of the bedroom.

Dean was busying himself with putting food on the table.

“Dean, you were supposed to wait for me!” he yelled with difficulty. “Something could have happened.”

“I did wait! I didn’t do this, I swear.” He pointed at large containers on the kitchen counter. “Kevin and Ash came by and dropped this off for us both. Aaron made us breakfast.”

“That—that was nice of him. Them. They didn’t have to.”

“I know. That’s what I said. I invited them to stay and eat with us, but they said they had to go back.”

Castiel lifted an eyebrow.

“Did you ask about any update?”

“No.”

“Dean Winchester, don’t lie to me.”

He bit his bottom lip.

“I may have asked for an itsy-tiny-super-mini update…”

“Dean!” he said, and then clutched his sore throat, mad at himself for having spoken so loudly.

“Ah-ha! No speaking,” warned Dean. “And they didn’t say anything. All they said was that there was nothing special to report and that they were supposed to leave us alone. And that’s what they did.”

Castiel nodded, still holding his throat.

Wanting to change the subject, Dean said, “I prepared you a plate. There’s Aaron’s special porridge. I thought that would be the best bet for you. There are also waffles with fruits, and Eggs Benedict if you feel up to it. I know you like those. There’s a bunch of other stuff, but I think this is the best for now. Sounds good?”

Castiel nodded, and as he walked towards the table, Dean pulled up a chair for Castiel to sit and then started adding food to his own plate.

With full bellies, and Dean still insisting that he wasn’t tired, they opted to watch television. Even though the most obvious choice should have _Dr. Sexy M.D_., they somehow ended up watching an old western that was playing on the classic movie channel.

“It seems that’s what’s on the program for the whole day,” said Dean, amused.

“I’m game if you are.”

Daylight made itself known, and for the next few hours, they had fun watching old western movies, sitting on the couch comfortably next to each other. Just like at Christmas, Castiel found it incredibly tempting to simply let his head fall on Dean’s shoulder and peacefully doze off.

But for practical reason, namely that he was supposed to keep an eye on Dean, he remained in the same position.

Eventually though, Dean grabbed a small pillow and lay on his side. He pulled his legs off the floor and brought his knees up against himself, adopting the fetal position.

“Are you tired?

“A little bit.”

“I’ll shut off the TV and let you rest,” said Castiel, grabbing the remote.

“No, leave it on. Continue watching it. You can tell me what happens.”

Castiel hesitated. “I’d prefer to continue watching it with you later.”

Dean met his eyes. “Okay. Let’s do that. We can record it.” Castiel nodded and immediately set up the recording. “Oh, record that one, too,” said Dean, “the one that plays after.”

Castiel programmed to record every movie playing that day.

“Satisfied?”

Dean nodded. “So looking forward to _Tombstone._”

Castiel laughed. “Good. But sleep first.”

“Wait—what are you going to do? You should sleep, too.”

“I—I don’t think I should. Not right now.” He cleared his throat.

“You need to rest, too, Cas.”

“I’m supposed to be looking out for you. Especially when you sleep.”

“You’re supposed to check up on me every two hours, tops,” specified Dean.

Castiel lowered his eyes. He knew those were the instructions, but it worried him immensely. What if something happened to Dean while he was sleeping during those two hours and Castiel hadn’t caught it because he was sleeping as well?

“Cas, I’m fine. You need sleep, too,” repeated Dean.

“Not right away. Start by sleeping and then we’ll see, okay?”

He gave Dean a more comfortable pillow and wrapped him in a knitted blanket. After sitting at the end of the couch, Castiel covered his feet with a blanket of his own and put a pillow on his thighs. He lit the lamp next to him and grabbed his book from the coffee table.

“Is that one of your _fun _ones?” asked Dean.

Castiel smiled. He shook his head and said, “I keep the fun ones to read with you.”

After a short pause, Dean said, “I’d like to hear about that one too. Later, I mean. I know you can’t really talk.”

“And you’re supposed to be sleeping.”

Dean nodded and repositioned his head on his pillow. Because Castiel was sitting at the end of the couch, Dean couldn’t properly stretch his legs. At first, it didn’t seem to be an issue, but he started to stir quite a lot, so Castiel concluded he should let Dean have the couch to himself and sit in the armchair instead.

As Dean was turning himself on his back with difficulty, Castiel stood up, and the moment he left the couch, Dean looked at him, confused. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll just sit there instead. You’ll be more comfortable then.”

“I don’t mind. I—I’d like if you stayed. That’s how—I’ll know you’re here.”

Castiel lowered his eyes for a moment, but retook his spot, smiling. He put his book aside. He gently reached for Dean’s feet and pulled on them, so Dean’s legs could rest on Castiel’s thighs, with his feet sticking out next to him. He made sure his blanket was properly covering his feet.

“Is this okay?”

Dean nodded, smiling, and shut his eyes, pulling the covers to his chin.

Castiel put his cushion on top of Dean’s legs and grabbed his book. He took notice of the time and started reading, while listening to Dean’s breathing.

Castiel didn’t leave Dean’s side with the exception of a few bathroom breaks, due to his ridiculous amount of tea intake.

Dean hadn’t woken up once, and seemed perfectly fine.

As the fourth hour was coming to a close, however, Dean woke up briskly, gripping the blanket.

“Dean? What’s wrong?”

The moment he realized he had been dreaming, his whole body relaxed.

“Bad dreams?”

“I—maybe. I’m not sure.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. A little out of it. But I just woke up so…” He looked around, trying to assess the time. “Has it been two hours yet?”

“You were nearly done with your fourth, actually.”

“What?” He sat up abruptly.

“Hey, easy.”

“Cas, why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Because you obviously needed it.”

“But you must be exhausted!”

“I am tired. But I’m fine. Actually, I’m more famished than anything else.”

“It’s almost noon. That makes sense.” The moment Dean had said it, Castiel knew what Dean would do.

“Dean, wait.”

But Dean was already on his feet to fetch his phone from the kitchen counter.

“You said I could call and ask questions around lunchtime. It’s—um, almost eleven. That counts as lunchtime.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, but let him call Donna.

Just as he had suspected, Donna, and everyone else at the ranch, had everything under control. With the exception of a few forms that required Dean’s signature—which Donna urgently mentioned that she would go to the house by the end of the day to get this done in order to avoid Dean going to the main building—he wasn’t needed and they would managed without the both of them, no problem.

“That makes me feel rather pointless,” said Dean grumpily, after hanging up with Donna. “What about Jody? Do you think we should call her?”

“If she has any update to give us, I’m sure she will call us. Since she hasn’t, it’s probably because she either doesn’t have any yet, or she’s busy doing just that at the moment,” argued Castiel.

Dean let out a sigh.

As he observed his phone, Dean noted that he had two missed calls from Sam.

Since Sam and Jessica were to arrive from their trip that morning, Castiel and Dean had agreed it would be best to only inform them of the night’s events once they were back in town.

The tribulation had occurred in the dead of night, and unlike last time, it wasn’t like Sam could simply go to them immediately. The last thing they wanted was to worry them during their whole way back.

It had been previously decided between the four of them, however, that once they were back in town and had dropped their stuff at their house, they would head to the ranch to tell them about their trip.

Initially, this was supposed to be during dinner.

But now, Dean suspected that the moment Sam and Jessica learned what had happened, the family reunion would turn into an urgent lunch gathering.

Dean put Sam on speakerphone.

“Dean! Finally. I was wondering. I called twice already and you didn’t pick up. You must have been busy, but you had said to call you the moment we landed.”

“Yeah, I know. Um, are you okay? Everything went well?”

“Yes. We’re fine! We can’t wait to see you both. We have lots to tell you.”

“Supper is too far away!” they heard Jessica say in the background.

“She’s right,” said Sam. “I know you won’t, but any chance you and Cas can get off work a little earlier?”

Dean and Castiel exchanged looks.

Dean cleared his throat and said, “Um, actually, we’re—we’re off right now. So, if you guys want to come over sooner—whenever you’re ready, that’s fine, too.”

There was a bit on confusion on Sam and Jessica’s part.

“What do you mean, you’re off?”

“The both of you?”

“Yeah. And Cas is listening too by the way.”

“Oh, hi Cas!”

“Hello, Castiel!”

“Hello,” said Castiel, trying his best so his voice didn’t sound hoarse, but he evidently failed even with only one word uttered.

“Cas?”

“Is he okay?”

“I’m fine, I promise,” he said, clutching his throat, which was betraying him.

“He—he can’t really talk right now. He has a sore throat.”

“Oh no, are you sick?” asked Jessica, genuinely upset for their well-beings. “Is that why you guys are not at work?”

“Um, no. That’s not why. Um, where—where are you guys right now? Like are you driving or—what are you doing?”

“We were just finishing unpacking at home.”

“Why do you ask that?”

Dean held his breath.

“Dean, what’s wrong?” said Sam, who was now clearly worried.

“Okay, so—um, please, don’t panic. We’re okay—everybody is okay—but it—it happened again. Someone—um, someone broke into the house last night.”

“No!”

“Fuck! How?”

“We don’t know. None of it makes sense.”

Castiel lifted three of his fingers with a serious look, and after Dean bit his lips, he said, “There were three of them this time.”

“What the fuck.”

“Is that—why can’t Cas speak properly? Did they—” Jessica stopped talking, not able to finish her sentence.

“He’s okay. We both are.”

Castiel looked at Dean sternly, prompting him to add, “We did have to go to the hospital this morning, though.”

“Dean, what the fuck happened?”

“I’ll tell you when you guys arrive. It’s a long story. But we’re fine.”

“We are leaving right now!” said Jessica.

“Do you guys need anything?”

“No. We’re fine.”

“Not even food?” said Sam, half-amused, half-worried.

Dean let out a short laugh. “Food would be awesome, Sam.”

“Done. We’ll be there as fast as we can.”

“There’s no hurry. We’re not going anywhere.”

“We will be there as fast as we can,” repeated Sam.

Within the next hour, the time it had taken them to pick up a generous portion of food and drive to the secluded ranch outside of town, Sam and Jessica finally arrived on Dean’s porch, carrying multiple bags and containers for their feast.

Castiel and Dean took hold of some of the bags, wishing to free their guests of the heavy load. The moment everything was on the counter, Sam and Jessica embraced both Castiel and Dean, happy to see them safe and sound.

Once the moment of relief passed, they all turned their attention to the panoply of food.

First, Sam and Jessica had brought everyone a juicy bacon cheeseburger, with crispy fries and roasted vegetables.

“I thought this would cheer Dean up the most,” said Sam to Castiel.

“We got you one too, Cas,” said Jessica, helping Sam lay out the containers on the counter, “though we weren’t sure if that would be best for you. You can warm it up later, if it’s not. No problem.”

“If Dean doesn’t get to it first,” said Sam under his breath.

“Hey!” he protested. “I wouldn’t do that!”

“Um, you did that, like, my whole life.”

“That’s not…that same thing.”

Sam lifted an eyebrow and warned Castiel, “I’d still keep an eye on it.”

Jessica then added that they had also brought soup for Castiel, thinking that was the best bet for his throat.

And wanting to give him options, they had brought four different types: butternut squash chicken noodle, creamy bacon potato and leek, Avgolemono soup and the classic tomato and rice soup.

“All delicious options. But trust me, you want to try this one first,” Dean said to Castiel, pushing the creamy bacon potato and leek soup container towards him. “I, um, might steal a bit of it.” He cleared his throat.

Castiel laughed and nodded, grabbing himself a spoon.

In addition to the soups and burgers, they had also brought three types of pasta (pesto linguini, spicy mac and cheese and spaghetti Bolognese), for a side dish and something else Castiel wouldn’t have a problem to nibble on.

And they had brought an apple pie for dessert, of course.

Everyone dug in and helped themselves, and Castiel and Dean (though mostly Dean) began filling them in on the details of the night before.

Once that topic out of the way, they got to the lighter and more cheerful part of hearing about Sam and Jessica’s trip.

But before doing so, Jessica went to the bathroom and Sam offered to make tea.

While Sam was getting everybody a cup, Dean asked Castiel if he was tired.

He shook his head. “Are you tired?”

“No, I’m fine, Cas. But that’s because I had a four hour nap. You didn’t.”

“I’m okay.”

And although he was, Dean wasn’t convinced. “How about when you’re tired, you tell me and you go lay down, and Sam and Jess here will keep me company until you wake up, so that way you’ll know nothing is going to happen to me.”

Castiel let out a small exhalation of relief. He nodded. “But I’m still okay for now.”

Once everyone was back at the table with a cup of tea in front of them, Sam and Jessica began their tale.

They couldn’t decide which of the two locations they had preferred. On the one hand, it seemed that San Antonio had scored big points with the Alamo, the Natural Bridge Caverns, and of course, the San Antonio River Walk. Jessica seemed to have enjoyed that one the most.

On the other hand, they couldn’t seem to stop talking about the State Capitol, the Lady Bird Lake, Ann and Roy Butler Hike-and-Bike trail, and the Barton Springs Pool in Austin.

After a time, Sam stopped talking as if he suddenly felt self-aware.

“What’s wrong?” asked Dean.

“I—I feel kind of weird to tell you guys all this after, um—”

“What happened last night?” said Dean, amused. “God, Sam, trust me, we are welcoming the distraction. We were looking forward to it even before that.”

Castiel nodded firmly.

“Really?” asked Sam, uneasy. “I—obviously I was wondering if now was the best time to tell you guys all this after yesterday, but I—I wasn’t sure if—I, um,” he said, before clearing his throat as he shifted on his seat.

Dean frowned and, completely confused at his brother’s distress, turned to Jessica for answers.

With a faint smile, she said to Dean, “Can you please tell your brother to stop worrying? Sam feels bad that he enjoyed his vacation so much,” which made Dean look at him with a look of utter puzzlement, “because it was supposed to be your vacation. He feels that that telling you guys about it is mean or something.”

“What?” said Castiel.

“Sam, come on. Really?”

“I—I can’t help it. This was amazing. And you guys did so much planning for it. I feel like that’s not fair.”

“We don’t mind, Sam. I’m over the moon you guys had a great time,” said Dean.

“We are so happy you got to enjoy it. We didn’t want it to go to waste.”

Sam took a deep breath and looked at his wife.

“I told you they wouldn’t mind,” said Jessica.

“Sam, really. I mean it.”

Sam nodded, and glanced at Jessica once more.

“You still want to do what we talked about?” she asked him.

“It’s a bit late to change our minds now,” he said, laughing. And then nodded at her.

She smiled at him. “Go ahead then, tell them.”

“It was your idea,” he said to her. But Jessica remained silent with a smile on her face.

“What’s going on?” asked Dean.

“Okay, so, like I said, that trip was amazing. And even though you say you don’t mind, I still felt kind of bad about it during the trip.”

“Sam—”

“But,” continued Sam, “we started talking about it, and Jess had an idea.” He was trying to contain his grin, but with Jessica smiling brightly, and her eyes constantly bouncing between Sam and Dean, he wasn’t very successful.

“Sam, what—what’s going on?”

“So, before you offered us your trip, Jess and I had a three day weekend planned in almost a week from now. But since we just came back from an amazing trip, we feel kind of silly to just leave for another one right away. I mean, don’t think we would be above the idea, obviously, but anyway, we thought since you guys gave us your trip, we think it’s only fair we do the same with ours.”

Dean and Castiel stared blankly at them.

“You mean that—”

“That Cas and you should go on our getaway trip.”

“That’s not necessary,” said Castiel, feeling anxiety spreading through his chest.

“We insist,” said Jessica.

“But Sam, that’s,” Dean cleared his throat, “that’s supposed to be your Valentine’s Day weekend.”

“So? It’s yours now.”

“Okay, but—what I mean is—”

“I know, but Dean, for once, just—don’t think too much?”

Sam pulled out the tickets and all the additional information, put it on the table and slid it towards them.

Dean stared at his brother. “Sam—”

“We already changed it. Everything we could switch to your name is done. And I had to argue ridiculously long with the guy at the hotel over the phone, so I’m not doing this again.”

Dean swallowed and looked at the plane tickets.

“It’s in the state of Montana, so you could drive if you want. I know it might be best for you, but given the weather conditions, flying is not a bad option either. And it will definitely be quicker. The tickets are in both your names, in any case.”

Castiel and Dean glanced at each other, not sure what to say.

“After everything you guys went through yesterday,” said Jessica, “I think you deserve a break from this place.”

“What about my head?” Dean asked Castiel. “Is that safe?”

“You haven’t shown any symptoms so far, and your scan is clear,” said Castiel in a low voice. “We still have a week in between to see if anything else happens. If nothing does… I think we’re good. We should ask the doctor to be safe, but—”

“But what?”

Castiel smiled. “I have a feeling this is going to be exactly what the doctor prescribed.”

Dean let out a sigh, defeated. After a quick awkward glance at Castiel, he swallowed hard.

“It’s settled then. And, um, thank you.”


	11. Valentine

Despite the fact that Dean had agreed to Sam and Jessica’s offer, he still attempted to get out of it for the remainder of the week. He kept voicing excuses such as, “It’s too generous,” and, “Our schedule is too busy,” but in the end, there was no point in arguing. It seemed that no matter what, Sam and Jessica would not take no for an answer.

Thusly, just over a week later, Castiel and a very nervous Dean were given a ride to the airport by Donna before lunchtime.

Yes, the airport, which, oddly enough, had been the one element Dean hadn’t used as a counter argument. He had in fact insisted on them taking the plane.

Castiel was glad that Dean showed initiative to improve on his issues, but he couldn’t help feeling worried for him.

Quite remarkably, however, Dean managed the whole journey without having an episode or taking any of the pills he hated so much. He hadn’t even fidgeted in his seat.

In addition to following through with the breathing exercise Dr. Vallens had taught him, he had asked Castiel to distract him by talking about the book he was reading.

And somehow, everything had gone smoothly.

Once they landed, Dean was eager to put some distance between him and the airport, so they immediately headed towards the hotel with their rental.

The hotel was in a secluded spot outside of town, by the Yellowstone Lake.

Despite the building’s enormous and imposing look, the hotel actually had a very quaint and cozy vibe to it. The rich and dark blue wallpaper mixed with the warm wood of the desk and fireplace, along with the brown leather couches in the lobby, made the place inviting.

They were eager to drop their stuff in their room as the clerk handed them their key cards and wished them a restful stay.

They hadn’t asked Sam and Jessica too many questions about the place (other than the food—an important detail for Dean—and what attractions the surroundings offered), so when they entered the room, it became obvious that they had overlooked a few details Sam and Jessica had given them.

Like the fact that they were apparently in the honeymoon suite.

A fact that became very apparent when the large bed was covered with rose petals.

Also, a beautiful old fashion tub rested on top of dark tile, and in front of a gorgeous fireplace in a glass enclosure, there was a divan of a dark cherry color. And the entire wall facing the door was a large window giving view to the lake.

Dean cleared his throat. He left his suitcase at the entrance next to Castiel and went exploring the rest of the room. He slid a door at the other end of the room, not far from the bed, and turned around, looking relieved.

“That’s the bathroom,” he said. “With a shower.”

Castiel nodded, pleased as well. Rose petals were one thing, but bathing out in the open was another.

They unpacked quickly. Castiel set his suitcase on the desk, right next to the door, and Dean had set his on the divan, for now.

And even though they knew they were both being silly about it, it took them a long time before dealing with the petals.

“What do you think we should do? Just, um, toss them?”

Castiel made a face. Evidently they couldn’t leave them there, but throwing them in the garbage seemed extreme for some reason.

“Let’s just—here,” Castiel took the bowl on the desk that contained towels. “We’ll just put them in there.”

After clearing the bed and leaving the bowl on the desk, they observed the room once more.

Even with the petals out of view, the fact that they were in the honeymoon suite was still obvious. So they both eagerly agreed to leave the room so that fact wouldn’t stare them in the face.

While they had already listed a few spots to visit in town based on Jessica and Sam’s information, they had gotten wind of a Winter Festival that was occurring in town when they had arrived at the hotel, so they decided to check that out first.

And they weren’t disappointed.

On the outskirts of the town, where they had access to the lake and near the town’s library, a large crowd had gathered around. Multiple bonfires were already blazing to warm up the crowd. People were ice-skating on the frozen lake. There were games, local shops and food stands all around. And this was what Castiel and Dean could discern at first glance.

They exchanged a look and knew this was the place to be that day. People were merry, and though the crowd was extremely large, it wasn’t suffocating. They looked at one of the many kiosks selling and advertising local wineries and breweries. Dean seemed particularly interested, so Castiel suggested they visit one of those properties the next day, which made Dean really happy.

Because it was in the middle of the afternoon and they had skipped lunch, when they passed by multiple barbeque, the mouthwatering aroma gave them pause. They opted to sit down and eat at the picnic tables. Given the crowd, they concluded that one of them should get a table, while the other would tackle the task of getting the food. Dean said he would find them a table, and when Castiel asked him what he would like to eat, Dean said he was up for anything.

The truth was that Castiel had only asked Dean that question because he hadn’t wanted to choose. Everything smelled so appetizing. Picking only one option for them would be difficult.

But as he made his way through the various food stands, trailer food and grills, he got a whiff of something he knew he had to try.

And so, they watched the friendly crowd strolling and laughing around them, while they each devoured a delicious pulled pork burger with fries.

After their meal, which Dean considered getting a second helping of, they got themselves hot cocoa and continued through the mini bazar of local shops for a while. Some were artisanal, selling jewelry, paintings and other crafts. Some were simply advertising their services by sponsoring the festival too.

Near the end of the afternoon, they reached a section where they heard engaging music. No one was singing, but everyone was cheerfully dancing and clapping their hands to the beat along with the joyful violin.

Castiel glanced at Dean.

With a bright smile, Dean took his hand and they joined the celebration.

They tried to follow the lead of everyone around them by imitating their moves, which proved to be a tad more difficult than they had anticipated.

But they kept at it, laughing and dancing next to each other.

After a few songs, they left the dance floor. While they were physically exhausted from the complicated (to them) dance moves and constant laughter, their spirits were high, and they carried on through the crowd, eager to discover what else this special event held for them.

They walked through a mini maze made of snow that was harboring impressive ice sculptures, one of which, Dean insisted looked like Castiel.

Castiel snorted at Dean’s statement. To him, he looked nothing like that sculpture. The figure held a serious, distinguished pose, with a delicate facial structure.

Nothing like him, he thought.

But Dean insisted that it was the case.

Castiel shook his head, but smiled.

Still exploring the event, they passed by more food stands, games, and even a spot where people could go on a short sleigh ride for two.

This activity had been tempting, but they continued past it, and Castiel liked to believe it was because they both knew this would never top their Christmas midnight stroll.

As they walked down the section of games, watching kids rejoicing around them, Castiel couldn’t help but notice himself constantly staring at Dean and genuinely being happy to see him smile. Like this was his gift to him and nobody else.

They eventually came across an ice cream stand, which they thought was a ridiculous thing to eat in the dead of winter.

But, perhaps because of their growing euphoric states, or even the contagious exuberance around them, they decided to each get one small ice cream cone.

Castiel picked the flavor of blueberry and Dean of hazelnut. They opted to take a break for a moment and sat on a bench, facing the lake.

Sitting quietly next to each other, enjoying their tasty treats, they grinned as they observed the busy crowd around them.

Castiel caught himself watching Dean’s hand, hoping he could take it. He almost did a few times.

Nearly done with their ice creams, Castiel suggested they continue walking. At least that way, they could keep warm, instead of remaining still on a cold bench.

But Dean had another idea.

“Can we wait a few minutes more?” asked Dean.

“You’re tired already? I knew we shouldn’t have sat down.”

“No,” said Dean defensively. “I’m—I’m not done with my ice cream yet. And I was just thinking that, um,” he said, stalling, and when he looked in front of him, he smiled and added, “the sun is about to set. I feel like that’s a cheesy thing worth looking at.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. But they both laughed and remained seated, watching the horizon as they finished their ice cream cones.

Soon enough, however, no matter how tacky it might have sounded, they both admired the pink and purple sky over the frozen lake. And even though they both had finished their ice cream, they couldn’t help continuing to look at the scene.

Moved by the beauty of it, Castiel glanced at Dean to see what he thought of it.

But Dean wasn’t gazing at the sunset. His eyes were scanning every inch of Castiel’s face.

And after a short moment, with longing eyes, Dean slowly leaned in and kissed him.

With his heart immediately fluttering at the sensation of Dean’s lips pressing over his, Castiel tugged Dean closer to him by his coat.

Encouraged by Castiel’s willingness, Dean deepened the kiss and gently took his hand. He rested it on his chest, as if he wanted to keep him close to his heart.

Which only increased Castiel’s craving.

He explored Dean’s mouth with his tongue and, to his pleasure, felt Dean quiver against him.

Castiel forgot everything around him. All that mattered in that instant was Dean’s soft lips on him, demanding more.

His lips were swollen. His heart was racing. His neck was tingling.

And he didn’t want to stop.

But soon the kiss was broken in order for them to catch their breaths.

Dean, not quite panting, rested his left temple on Castiel’s cheek. Castiel shut his eyes and caressed the back of his head. Eventually Dean lifted his head again and looked at him, inches apart from him.

His bottom lip trembled.

And he kissed him again.

One quick, yet meaningful, kiss, filled with affection.

But it felt like Dean was somehow holding back.

When done, Dean licked his lips, as if he was trying to taste the kiss again. He looked at him tenderly as long as he deemed acceptable, and then lowered his eyes and turned himself towards the horizon again.

Castiel, still holding on to Dean’s hand, wanted nothing more than to pull him back and continue kissing.

But he knew Dean wouldn’t.

Dean had allowed himself a moment of weakness. One moment of short bliss.

Just like on their midnight stroll at Christmas.

And just like what had happened after said stroll, he would now shut himself off from that possibility.

And while Castiel refused to push him, he also didn’t want to let him dismiss their moment.

Staring in front of him, Dean said, “The sunset passed. We missed it.”

Castiel, with his eyes still on Dean, said, “Did we?”

And Dean squeezed his hand, remaining perfectly still.

After a time, they rejoined the crowd and the festivities for the rest of the evening. They warmed themselves up with mulled wine, and listened to a short concert.

And although they didn’t utter a word about it, and neither of them attempted anything of the sort for the rest of their evening, they still remained merry and close to each other.

The journey back to the hotel was done silently, with the weight of a tension in the air. The drive hadn’t been long and when they had arrived at the hotel, they walked side by side in an unhurried manner down the hallway. They both knew things would need to be discussed once they were on the other side of that door, and considering what had happened the last time they had initiated a heavy discussion, even if neither of them were that upset at the moment, they still both dreaded the possibility of a sour turn springing on them.

Facing the door, Dean, key card in hand, stalled a moment, as if he was weighing on saying something.

But he didn’t.

He cleared his throat, opened the door, and after a short sigh, Castiel followed him.

They both took off their winter coats. Dean stepped towards the large window, and with his back turned to Castiel, he looked at the crescent moon over the lake, purposely avoiding Castiel’s eyes.

Castiel remained quiet, but not because he didn’t feel particularly loquacious. He watched Dean turn his head slightly to the side, as if he was waiting for the inevitable questions he knew Castiel wanted to ask him.

But nothing was said.

Dean then turned around and seemed surprised to find Castiel leaning against the door, with his arms crossed over his chest.

Far away from him.

Shifting on his feet, Dean, not knowing what to do with his hands, stuck them in his pockets and kept looking uncomfortably at Castiel.

After a long silence, where Castiel took the time to settle on which of the many questions he wanted to ask Dean, he softly said, “Can I ask you something?”

Dean nodded. “It’s our rule.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Castiel knew he didn’t need to say more than that.

Dean clenched his jaw and immediately lowered his eyes.

“You know what I thought when I learned about that clause in the will?”

Mildly annoyed that this was not the clear-cut answer he had wished for, Castiel was nevertheless curious to know about this as well.

So he shook his head and let him elaborate.

“That you would never say yes.”

Castiel frowned.

“After the shock kicked in of the—of what it entailed,” continued Dean, still staring at the ground, “and I had my mini-freak out and all that… I knew I had to go to New York. I had to try for the ranch. But—but the idea of seeing you after all this time terrified me. And that was before—I was expecting you to laugh in my face or worse—but I never _ever _thought you’d say yes. Who would have? I’m—I’m not even sure I would have if—” he cleared his throat. “I thought, ‘I’ll give it my all anyway, and when he says no, that will be that, and I’ll know I at least tried.’”

He lifted his head shyly. “When I saw you, I—I just,” he stopped talking, took a deep breath, and crossed his arms tightly on his chest. “I couldn’t believe it when you said yes. I don’t know what my face looked like when you told me, but I just—I really thought you wouldn’t accept. Of course, there was this moment of instant relief when I realized the ranch would have a chance. Like a massive weight had been lifted off my shoulders.”

He clenched his eyes shut.

“But then I—I was freaking out. What the fuck was I supposed to do now? You—you were coming back with me. _You_. You, who I thought of for so long. For so many years. That I—fuck, it was to the point that I really thought all these memories, that you—I was probably remembering it wrong. That I just remembered you how I had wanted it. That it was all in my head.”

He took a pause, and after an obvious hesitation, he continued. “Then I told myself that maybe this would be a good thing. If you’d come to the ranch, I’d get know you again. To know the real you, not this person I imagined in my head all these years. Because how in the world could that guy be real, anyway? So, I’d be able to get rid of this idea and see that you were nothing like that.”

Castiel, his heart racing, tried to remain calm. The idea that Dean held him to such a high standard for so long could only mean that, yes, evidently, he hadn’t been the person Dean had imagined.

“And how did it work out for you?” he asked him. “Was I just like you remembered?”

Dean shook his head.

Castiel swallowed and turned his eyes away from Dean.

“You were better,” he said in a hollow voice.

Castiel stared at him, holding his breath and now feeling his heart pounding in his chest.

“And that’s why,” continued Dean, “I didn’t say anything. I promised myself I would never cross that line with you. I can’t. You’re not—it’s you. I can’t go there if it’s just—I won’t come back from that. I can’t, knowing where it will end.”

And Castiel shook his head. “But you don’t know that, Dean. I—”

“I do. We both do,” he said in a breaking voice. “You’ll leave. That was the deal.”

Castiel took a deep breath trying to think of something fast. “Dean, I can’t—I cannot say with absolute certainty what I’ll do after, but—but that doesn’t mean that—the point is, I don’t know yet. And if I don’t know, it means you don’t either.”

“But I do know it.”

Castiel stepped closer. “But I could—”

And Dean cut him off, as he blurted out, “I found you employment.”

They stared intensively at one another.

“What do you mean?”

“I wanted to help you. Like I said I would. There’s still plenty to do in the, um, overall of the situation, but since I cost you your job, I thought I’d start there and I—I made a few calls. And I found you potential employment. I have five job offerings already lined up for you so far.”

Castiel flinched. “What? How—did you—” but the rest of his sentence died in his throat. Castiel had difficulty accepting it would have been that easy for Dean to succeed in this task—and that quickly—considering how much of a struggle it had been for Castiel all of his life.

And this had been before the recent rumors.

Which rendered Castiel convinced that there was more involved than simple phone calls.

“What did you do?”

Dean frowned. “I told you. I have—I found—”

“What did you do? What did you do to make them—what do you have to do in return?”

It was as if Dean had just been slapped in the face.

“Cas,” said Dean, horrified. “I would never! You—give me a little more credit than that!”

Castiel held his stare, clenching his jaw.

He wanted to trust him.

He wanted to believe him.

But he couldn’t. Not about that.

Dean took a step forward. He lifted his hand as if to reach out for him, but let it drop at the last moment. “You know how sick I feel about how people treat you. Do you honestly believe I’d be okay with you working for someone who would have simply considered you because I’d—what? Make them promises? Owe them? Or—vice versa?”

No, thought Castiel. He knew Dean wouldn’t suggest such a thing.

But this wasn’t about Dean’s character.

It was about everyone else’s.

Doubt sill visible on Castiel’s face, Dean added with a serious tone, “I swear to you, all I did was inquire about a few places. I did research and based on what I had heard of the place and the people, I contacted them to inform them I knew someone who was looking for employment. I gave them your resume and everything. That’s it. I didn’t even include what you did at the ranch to not sound biased. All of it was based on your merits. As it should.”

Castiel stared at him, not knowing what to say.

“It’s all in your line of work,” continued Dean, “and all positions are to begin between late April to early June. Three of them are in the U.S.—one of which is even in New York,” he said rapidly, “so you wouldn’t have to move if that’s what you wish for. Another one is in California and the other one is in Vegas. I also heard back from a place in Sydney and another one in France. I only started doing that not even a week ago and those are just the places I heard from so far. I was going to wait to tell you after the trip, but…”

“And they didn’t ask questions? About…everything?”

Dean swallowed.

“Some did. Mostly related to your father. But it wasn’t anything extensive—or judgmental. And they were still interested to hear back from you.”

Castiel pursed his lips, looking downwards.

Dean gently held his hand. “You have options, Castiel. I know people suck, and—but I wanted to prove to you that not everybody does. Every single one of these places eagerly expects to hear back from you.”

Castiel stared at him for a long time, as he fought the lump growing in his throat. 

“These are amazing jobs,” said Dean. “You can’t—you can’t pass this up. You shouldn’t. So, you see? You will leave. And this,” he said, brushing his thumb over Castiel’s hand, “this is one of the many reasons why this is not a good idea.” And after one last look, he let go of Castiel’s hand and stepped away from him.

But Castiel reached for his hand.

Dean came to a halt, but he didn’t turn around.

“What if I stayed?”

Dean shook his head vehemently, still not looking at him.

“Cas, no. If—if you stay it will only be because—it’ll mean—you’ll just—and people will think that—”

Dean was tripping on every word. Castiel had scared him by suggesting the very thing Dean was deeply wishing for.

Castiel nudged Dean towards him, and once they were face-to-face again, he studied Dean for a moment.

“Cas, don’t—I don’t go anywhere,” blurted out Dean, still panicking under Castiel’s gaze. “I—after what people are saying—like I trapped you. And you’ll be stuck with me and it just can’t—”

“When you say things like that, I’m—am I your excuse?” he asked Dean.

“What do you mean?”

“For holding yourself back, Dean. I just—you are so busy telling yourself reasons why I’d leave, you forgot to remind yourself that _you _are the best reason why I would stay.”

Dean shut his eyes with anguish, inhaling deeply.

“Dean, listen to me for a minute.” Still holding his hand, Castiel stepped closer. “Forget about my job. Or lack thereof. Forget about the ranch. Forget about the fact that we’re married. Forget about why we’re married. How this came to be. About other people. Forget about—about everything else. Because all of these things, they’re just confusing you right now.” He lifted his other hand to his face and gently held his chin by the tips of his fingers. “What do you want?” Dean blinked. “When none of these things are to be considered—”

“But they are to be considered.”

“And what you want should be considered too, Dean.”

Dean leaned his head back for a second, as if to take a better look at him, with an odd expression on his face.

But he had stayed still, his hand squeezing Castiel’s.

“What you want,” Castiel calmly repeated, “that’s what you should consider. And Dean?” he said softly, “I’m telling you that whatever is included or not in the equation, this,” he said, gently squeezing on Dean’s hand, “is what I want.”

Dean blinked. His hand trembled and he stared at him with intensity.

Despite the fact that Dean remained silent and did not move, Castiel believed it was a good sign that he had not shut down or hastily walked away from him.

As he feared he would have.

So, he continued speaking, hoping it would reassure Dean of his intentions.

“I want you, Dean. And just so we’re clear, I—I am not saying this because it’s been a while.”

Dean held his breath.

“Or because the room—this place—and the ambiance is impressively putting ideas in my head.”

Dean licked his lips.

“Not because I don’t have any other choices.”

He took a deep breath, trying to get hold of his nerves.

“It’s because I’ve been wanting this for a long time, too.”

Dean looked him straight in the eyes, while he processed every word he had just told him.

His lips inches apart from Dean’s, Castiel wished nothing more than to lean in and kiss him.

But he didn’t.

Much like at their wedding, when Dean had left Castiel the last say to kiss him or not, Castiel remained perfectly still, leaving it up to Dean.

Feeling his warm breath against his lips, he did not divert his gaze one moment and anxiously waited for Dean’s response.

Dean shifted on his feet, and after stroking the back of Castiel’s hand with his thumb, he shut his eyes and leaned in.

Castiel thought he had detected a hint of hesitation in his kiss at first, but it quickly dissipated when Dean eased his hand on his lower back, as he pressed himself against him.

He moved his mouth to Dean’s chin and along his jaw line, kissing his scruffy beard, delighted in hearing Dean’s breathing intensify.

Soon enough, Dean’s hand found the back of his neck and redirected him to his lips.

Castiel felt his knees weaken when Dean, moaning in his mouth, slowly grew more passionate with his kisses.

With more strength.

More tongue.

Nearly craving.

Almost as if he was finally letting himself go.

And he could feel Dean’s erection against his thigh.

As he sucked on Castiel’s bottom lip, Dean slid his hand on Castiel’s back to his ass and gave it a good squeeze.

But after Castiel let out a groan, and tightened his grip on Dean’s waist, Dean became self-aware of what he was doing, and broke the kiss abruptly, catching his breath.

“Dean?”

“I’m fine. I just—” He took a deep breath.

And stood in his spot. Trying to keep his breathing under control.

Castiel smiled and fondled Dean’s hair just above his ear, causing him to shut his eyes at the touch.

Licking his lips, Castiel slid both his hands on to Dean’s shoulders in a kind manner.

“Dean?”

He opened his eyes.

Castiel, feeling the anxiety spread in his chest, but resolute to go through with his suggestion, he said, “It’s late.” One hand slid on his chest, right next to his tie. A button shirt under his fingers. He could feel Dean’s strong heartbeat. “Can I help you out of these clothes?”

And Dean, not diverting his gaze, nodded.

But Castiel wasn’t utterly convinced of his response. So keeping his hands exactly where they were, he said, “Nothing needs to happen. Only if that’s what you want.”

But Dean met Castiel’s mouth again, and said in between kisses, “I want to.”

Castiel smoothly slipped his hands underneath Dean’s suit jacket, and slid it off of his shoulders. Still kissing him, Castiel delicately pulled on his sleeve to free him, and let the jacket fall to the ground.

Castiel leaned back to assess Dean’s reaction properly. Trembling and holding his breath, anxiety and yearning were visible in his eyes.

But he was present. And ready for Castiel to continue in his task.

The only problem was that Castiel was a complete nervous wreck in that moment as well.

He attempted to keep his shit together, but this wasn’t like it had been at Christmas. When he had been confident. Calm. Almost serene.

This was the complete opposite. His heart was pounding, his body was shaking, and he was ready to jump out of his skin.

And although he wanted nothing more than the warmth of Dean’s touch all over him, he knew if he didn’t keep his composure in check, all this would be done and over quickly.

Too quickly.

Castiel didn’t want to be utterly lost in the moment. Despite his deep affection for Dean, he feared it would then resemble too much of what Dean was accustomed with.

A short relief. And nothing more.

And he wanted to make it crystal clear to Dean that this meant something.

He thought Dean deserved better than that. He thought they both deserved better than that.

But with everything that happened between them, the pressure of that next step was incredibly heavy.

On them both.

And he desperately didn’t want to ruin it.

So he decided that taking his sweet time would be his best option in keeping up the appearance of being poised.

For now.

“Cas?”

They stared at each other.

Castiel, curious if Dean wanted to say anything.

Dean, desperate to know what Castiel would do next.

Castiel smiled and started undoing Dean’s tie. “I want you,” he said.

Dean let him do whatever he wanted and simply looked at him longingly.

“And based on what I’ve been hearing in the mornings,” continued Castiel, “I have a feeling that’s what you want too.”

Dean froze.

“What?”

The tie was off, and Castiel was unbuttoning Dean’s shirt, not straying one moment away from his eyes.

“When you were in the shower. I heard you.” He tugged his shirt from his pants after Dean had raised his arms to make it easier for him.

“You—you did?” He momentarily averted his eyes, embarrassed.

“I tried not to listen, but I did. Especially after…”

“After what?” he croaked.

Castiel let Dean’s shirt fall on the ground and rested his hands over his chest, which made Dean shiver. His mouth met Dean’s neck and made its way down to his collarbone.

“I heard you say my name when you were in there.”

“Shit. I’m—you weren’t suppose to—” Panicking, and feeling exposed, Dean was fidgeting on his feet.

“Oh, so you didn’t want me to hear?” asked Castiel, almost amused. “I thought the first time was a mistake and I had just misheard you.” He softly kissed his chest. “But then I heard you say it a second time,” he said, branding him with another kiss. “Then a third,” and another one, “then a fourth,” and another one, “so, I knew it wasn’t a mistake. And those were the ones when I heard you say something.”

He then gently nudged Dean towards the bed.

With trembling legs, Dean nearly missed the edge as he sat down. Studying him, Castiel kneeled in front of him, delicately holding each of Dean’s hands for a second. Castiel tried to remain calm, as he felt Dean shivering under his touch.

He seated himself on his heels, grabbed one of Dean’s legs and pulled on one boot. Dean held himself back on the edge of the bed to help him.

“There were plenty other times when, even if you didn’t say anything, I still heard you.”

He lifted his head and met Dean’s eyes.

Dean who longingly stared at him.

Dean who desperately tried to keep his breathing under control.

Dean who was avidly listening.

“It was really difficult not to just come in and join you,” Castiel told him, pulling on the other boot. “It nearly drove me mad. The things I was thinking of doing. Even when I heard you this morning.”

“Fuck,” said Dean, as he lowered his himself and stole a kiss from him.

But the moment passed quickly, and soon Dean leaned back, looking flustered.

While Dean had willingly let Castiel undress him, stated that it was what he wanted and had quivered at nearly every touch, Castiel still detected a presence of uneasiness within him.

He wasn’t sure if it was simply his nerves, or because Dean was still hesitant.

So, he unbuckled Dean’s belt, and as he slid off his pants, he made sure Dean’s underwear remained on. He stood up in front of him and took a mini step back. The look of confusion on Dean’s face as to why Castiel had purposely left his underwear on reassured him for a moment.

But not enough to convince him completely yet.

Making sure to keep eye contact, he took his jacket off. He started unbuttoning the top of his shirt and noticed Dean moving his hand over his own covered cock.

At this promising sight, Castiel’s heart skipped a beat. He stepped closer and continued undoing his shirt, while enjoying the view.

He went for his right sleeve, but Dean grabbed his hands. For a moment, Castiel thought Dean was stopping him all together, but then Dean gently helped him with his cufflinks. The shirt drop on the floor and Dean tugged him closer to him by his belt.

With his hands caressing his lower back, Dean busied his mouth on his stomach, as Castiel was running his fingers through Dean’s hair, taking in deep, slow breaths.

Dean’s hands migrated to the front of his pants, and after one look at Castiel for approbation, he unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants.

Unlike Castiel, however, Dean had slid off his underwear with it, revealing his erection.

While getting rid of his footwear and socks to free his ankles from his pants, he tried to not feel self-conscious of Dean’s gaze on him.

Completely naked, he stood still for a short minute, looking at Dean who was examining him thoroughly.

His eyes lingering all over.

While licking his lips.

Swallowing hard, Castiel stepped closer.

Knowing exactly what Dean was planning on doing, he leaned down quickly, grabbed Dean’s hands and placed them on his shoulders, thus stopping him from reaching out for his cock.

He kissed him with a slippery tongue. Dean was panting heavily, caressing Castiel’s shoulders.

Sucking on his tongue, he rubbed his hands over Dean’s underwear. On his hips. Then his thighs. And palmed his crotch.

Dean jolted, letting out a deep moan.

“Do you want these off?”

“Yes.”

“On your back.”

Dean did as he was told, and before he could start pushing down his underwear, Castiel tugged on it, after he had elevated Dean’s legs to help with the task.

Finally naked as well, Dean lifted himself on his elbows to return to his initial position.

But Castiel put one hand on his chest keeping him still. Just as Dean had done, he took a moment to fully take in Dean in all his glory.

Muscular, though perhaps not ripped in a Herculean manner, but definitely rugged and fit. Which, honestly, Castiel much preferred of the two.

His intriguing tattoo. Freckles spreading even on his pectorals. Very few scars and smooth skin, despite his physically laborious work.

Although he had evidently seen Dean naked before, this was utterly different.

This was Dean shivering and staring at him with pleading, lustful eyes. Desperately wishing to reach out for him.

And with his hard cock in need of attention.

His legs nearly giving out, Castiel eased his hand down Dean’s stomach and lowered himself to his knees.

With both hands gripping firmly on his thighs, which he mildly spread, after one look at Dean, he teasingly licked the tip of Dean’s cock, tasting the pre-cum already dripping.

Dean’s entire body shuddered and he suddenly dropped on his back again as he let out a loud moan.

Castiel wasted no time. He immediately wrapped his mouth around his cock, slowly moved downwards, and held the entirety of his cock in his mouth, until he unhurriedly leaned his head backwards, swirling his tongue on him.

Dean was whining. His hips and thighs were stirring underneath Castiel’s grip.

Castiel could feel his own cock throbbing, and not reaching for it was excruciating.

But Dean’s reaction was worth it. Dean’s whining was all he wanted.

He teased him with kisses along his shaft, as he was rubbing the head of his cock with his hand.

Dean was gripping the sheets, shivering all over.

“Cas, fuck. I—I won’t la—”

Castiel let go of him for a moment. He continued stroking him slowly. “I’ll slow down a bit. And if—I’ll get you up again,” he added.

So far, he had managed to keep a steady pace, but with Dean giving him everything he wanted, moaning and melting before him, after all this time, hitting the breaks was difficult. “I—I don’t think I’ll be long either. It’s okay.”

He kissed his hip and went back to Dean’s cock, licking his shaft.

Dean gave out another moan that resonated through Castiel’s entire body, making his cock twitch. Dean, despite being overwhelmed, sat up as best he could and gently pulled Castiel by his arms, lifting him to his feet, and causing him to let go of him.

“I won’t last,” he repeated, panting. “I won’t last if you continue. I want—not yet.”

Dean kissed his jaw and wrapped his arms around him, craving his warmth.

And Castiel, with his legs wavering, followed Dean’s demanding touch and climbed onto him.

Taking a moment to gaze at one another, Dean explored the skin of Castiel’s chest with his fingertips, as he bit on his lips.

Their bodies pressed against one another, Castiel began making small circles with his hips against him, believing they wouldn’t be able to handle much more than that for now. Dean, gasping, locked his legs around him, as he kept his hands on his chest, slightly tightening his grip.

Eventually, however, when Dean’s panting was becoming heavy again, he nudged Castiel on his back and kneeled next to him.

Fingers wrapped themselves around Castiel’s cock and then he felt Dean’s sweet mouth swallowing him whole.

He swore loudly.

He held his breath, as he felt his stomach tighten.

Fighting the urge to thrust into Dean’s mouth, he caressed Dean’s back and any skin surface he could explore.

He delicately ran his fingertips along Dean’s side to his ribs, waist and hips, which made Dean spasm.

Dean replied with big, long strokes, while nibbling on his inner thigh.

Castiel bit hard on his lips, repressing a groan.

Craving for more, Castiel seated himself for better access. He twisted his torso and leaned in to kiss Dean’s ribs. His hips. Even the side of his ass, to which he heard Dean moan loudly over his cock.

Unable to resist, his hand found Dean’s cock again. The room was filled with heavy breathing and sloppy noises.

Slightly uncomfortable in his position, but determined to not stop with his task, Castiel twisted his hips to the side, in the hope it would fix the issue.

But the next thing he knew, Dean repositioned himself all together. He was now lying on his back, next to him, and his head rested next to Castiel’s knees.

Understanding what Dean was trying to accomplish, Castiel put himself on all fours, and then, with Dean’s guiding hands, he lifted a leg and arm, letting Dean slide underneath him.

It took a moment for them both to adjust themselves, making sure they were comfortable and that everything was within reach.

Having full access to Dean’s cock right in his face, Castiel lowered his body, pressing himself against Dean, happily feeling his body warmth beneath him.

They got busy quickly after that. While Castiel was occupied with swirling his tongue on Dean’s cock, Dean eased both his hands on Castiel’s ass, caressing and squeezing it. Once his mouth was around Castiel’s cock again, with a firm grip on his butt, he motioned Castiel to slowly thrust into his mouth.

With his legs and arms shaking, Castiel had to momentarily let go of Dean’s cock, overwhelmed by what Dean was doing to him. Letting out a deep groan, he dropped his head on Dean’s hip, and continued moving his quivering hand up and down Dean’s shaft as steadily as he could.

When he sensed he was getting dangerously close to coming, he clumsily—and against his yearning—pushed himself a little forward to allow himself a break from Dean’s mouth.

But that didn’t slow Dean down, as he eagerly stroked him.

Until, that was, when Castiel, because of his readjustment, sucked on his balls. Dean let out a small cry. As he continued, Castiel could feel him squirming beneath him. And Dean’s strokes became uneven. 

“Fuck, Cas. I’m—”

But Castiel didn’t stop, which resulted in Dean whining. Castiel smiled, still sucking on his balls, as he noticed Dean’s moving legs conveying the anguish he was in.

Castiel gripped the base of his shaft, and after a moment, when Dean stopped moving, Castiel freed his mouth.

And he heard Dean exhale.

“Fuck.”

Catching his breath, Dean started jerking off Castiel again, but with much less focus.

Convinced that he now had Dean’s full attention, Castiel returned to Dean’s cock. Licking it teasingly upwards with a flat tongue, and then one quick swirl at the tip, making Dean thrust his hips as he whimpered.

“Cas, I—I won’t—”

“I want you to,” he said in a low voice, a smile on his face. After slightly lifting himself for a better angle, he sucked on the tip for a moment, and pushed his mouth all the way down. Putting all his weight on one arm to remain in this exact position, his other hand massaged Dean’s balls.

“Fu—uck!” cried Dean.

Dean managed to hold on a little longer, but soon enough, he let out a scream, and with his tongue over the slit, Castiel felt the hot stream spread in his mouth.

While Dean was shaking beneath him, dealing with the aftershocks of his orgasm, Castiel cleaned up his mess with his tongue, moaning at the taste.

Once Dean had regained control of himself, Castiel climbed off of Dean and twisted himself around to face him.

Still catching his breath and looking flustered, Dean hurriedly seated himself and kissed Castiel vividly on the mouth, pressing himself against him.

“What would you like?” he said softly to Castiel, brushing his lips tenderly with his fingertips. “Tell me and I’ll do it.” He positioned himself on Castiel’s lap and began stroking his cock rapidly like he had before, keeping his stare on Castiel’s eyes. “I just want to look at you while it happens.”

Castiel bit on his lips to hold down a moan.

“Tell me,” repeated Dean.

“I have a ma—ny ideas, but—I—I don’t think—”

Speaking clearly was demanding.

“This—like this. This—works.”

“Yeah? You sure you don’t want anything else?” he asked, as he quickened his strokes. “I have a lot of ideas too.” And he teased Castiel with the tip of his tongue on his lips.

“Fuck. I—don’t stop. Keep talking.”

“I heard you too. I know you’ve been having sex dreams. You never said anybody’s name. So, I—I don’t—but you, moaning next to me—it was the sweetest torture. I listened. Every time I caught you. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to wake you…but I had to leave a few times when it was too much. Fuck, Cas. Seeing you, aching for it…”

Breathing heavily, Castiel clutched onto Dean’s waist and began thrusting into Dean’s fist.

“You—Dean. Don’t stop, please.”

“And this is what I thought of. In the shower. You, like that. Like this. What I would do to make you moan like that. Every time.”

The look that Dean was giving him. Like he was assessing every detail of his face in utter admiration of the spectacle before him.

And he continued doing so until Castiel shut his eyes and cried out Dean’s name as he came.

Spent and out of breath, he dropped on his back, dragging Dean with him, who was covering him with gentle kisses.

When Castiel emerged from a deep and restful sleep, the sun was already up. Without opening his eyes, he immediately knew Dean was awake. The absence of his snores told him so.

Castiel was pleased to find Dean watching him with attention and a smile on his face.

“You’re staring at me,” laughed Castiel.

Dean was still looking at him warmly. “Did you sleep well?” Dean asked him.

“Yes. Very much so. You? Did you get some sleep or did you just stare at me the whole night?” he said jokingly.

“I caught a few Zs at some point.”

“That is rather unsettling, Dean,” he teased him.

They both let out a short laugh.

Dean, still gazing at him, lifted his hand and lovingly stroked Castiel’s temple.

But then, for the briefest of moments, Dean’s expression changed. He recovered from it by forcing a smile on his face, but Castiel had caught it.

Dean moved his hand away from him, and turned himself on his stomach, resting on his elbows.

“Hey,” said Castiel, pulling himself closer to him. He ran his hand on Dean’s back and kissed his arm. “Are you okay?”

Remaining in the same position, Dean turned his head to him, and after a short hesitation, he nodded.

“Dean, come here.” Coaxing on his arm, Castiel managed to pull Dean towards him, so he could rest his head on Castiel’s shoulder.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

Dean glued himself to him and ran his fingers on Castiel’s collarbone.

“You sure?”

“I just—I never want to leave this bed.”

Castiel smiled. “I’m afraid I’m rather gross right now. We took care of most of it with a quick clean up last night, but I wouldn’t advise—”

And Dean stopped him by giving him a series a quick kisses on his mouth, laughing.

“I was speaking, you know?”

“You were saying we had to leave the bed. I don’t want that.” He kissed him again, and caressed his jaw.

“Prickly.”

Castiel snorted. He ran his fingers against it. “I need to take care of it.”

“I like it.”

“Yeah?”

Dean nodded. “Though, I’m not very difficult when it comes to you.”

“Can’t complain here, either.”

Dean’s stomach growled and they both started laughing. “Seems like we are going to have to leave the bed.”

“Don’t wanna,” said Dean, climbing over him.

“You need to eat. I’m hungry. And I need a shower,” argued Castiel, as Dean was kissing his neck. “You’re invited, you know.”

Dean lifted his head to look at him.

“Hmmm. I don’t know. My last shower with you was somewhat traumatic.”

Castiel pinched him on his side, which made Dean laugh. “I was trying to help you, you ungrateful dweeb.”

“You did,” Dean assured him as he let himself fall next to him. He then added, grinning, “In a traumatic way.”

Castiel shook his head, laughing. As he observed Dean, his eyes fell on his tattoo.

“I meant to ask about this,” said Castiel, easing his fingers over it, “but when I saw it, we—we were a bit occupied.”

“And when was that? Last night or when you obviously checked me out in that cold shower?”

“You forgot the time when you exited the bathroom wearing only a towel.”

“You were keeping tabs?”

“No, I—”

“Too late. You were,” laughed Dean. “It’s still better than me. I never got to see you until yesterday.”

Castiel lifted one eyebrow. “You saw me at the pool.”

“You were in the water the whole time.”

Castiel grinned. “Were you really napping? Or were you just checking me out?”

“I was napping. I was! I—I may have looked once or twice towards the pool at some point…”

“Uh-huh.”

“But it was just to assess the situation.”

“I see. And what about when you were sitting by the edge of the pool?”

“You were still in the water. I barely saw your shoulders.”

Castiel chuckled. “Pretty sure you saw more than that. And you definitely could have seen more if you would have stuck around to watch me exit the pool. ”

Dean bit on his lips.

And that was when Castiel understood. “That’s why you left. You _didn’t _want to see me.”

“Maybe.” Dean cleared his throat. “But even then. That doesn’t equal the other times you saw me.”

“Not that I’m reproaching you or anything,” said Castiel, “but there were _other _occasions when you could have. And you still passed.”

Dean, staring at him, reached out for his hand. “You mean, like Christmas.”

“For starters. Yes.”

“Were you mad at me?”

Castiel frowned. “No, of course not. There was nothing to be mad about. I was just confused. I didn’t know if I was reading too much into this or…I believe the appropriate way of putting it is ‘you were sending me mixed signals.’ It felt like that.”

Dean lowered his eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted us to have a good holiday, but—I knew it would be a gamble. I knew it would be risky. It—you were already so tempting as it was everywhere else. Just us, isolated with nothing much to do…I panicked because—well, you know why.”

“Are you panicking now?”

Dean shook his head, but then stopped and bit his lip. “Maybe. Maybe a little.” When he met Castiel’s eyes again, he said, “I—what about you?”

Castiel smiled. “Well, I have to say, I am rather content with the turn of events,” he replied, which made Dean snort. “But I’m also…I wouldn’t say worried, but…” and he ended his sentence there.

“Can you tell me why?”

Castiel weighed on his choice of words for a moment.

“Cas?”

He took a deep breath and said, “I suppose I’m concerned that this—us, what we have right now—will…I don’t want you to change your mind. I’m worried that something will happen again and you’ll fold back as you—” he stopped talking, as he felt his throat tightening.

“I—it’s the same for me. I mean, I don’t want you to—” he swallowed. “But I’m not planning on doing that.”

“Me neither.”

Dean brought his hand to his mouth and kissed it softly.

“You haven’t answered my question,” Castiel reminded him.

“Right, sorry. What was it again?”

“Your tattoo. Does it mean anything? When did you get it?”

“Oh, that,” he said, chuckling. “I, um, it’s a thing Sam and I did.”

“You have matching tattoos?” he said, amused.

“Yeah. We talked about it for a long time. We kept changing what we were planning on getting. When I left for college, which at the time we had settled on a lyric—I will not tell you which one—”

“Why? I want to know.”

Dean shook his head. “And don’t ask Sam because he certainly won’t tell you either. As it was his idea and I’m pretty sure we’re carrying this to the grave.”

Castiel squinted at him. “I guess I’ll ask Jessica, then.”

Dean laughed. “She doesn’t know.”

“So far. Maybe.”

“Anyway, like I said,” he continued, grinning, “I was going to get it done before leaving, but we really wanted it done at the same time, so there would be no backsies. But considering Sam was, like, fourteen when I left for college…”

“I doubt your parents were on board.”

“What gave you that idea?” He chuckled. “When our parents passed away, we decided to change it again, and Sam, the walking and talking encyclopedia of weird, found this symbol. It’s supposed to be a protective symbol. To ward against—well, anyway, I liked it. So when it was Sam’s turn to leave for college, we got our tattoos.”

“Henry didn’t get one too?” said Castiel.

Dean burst laughing. “No. He let us do our thing. What about you? I didn’t spot any last night but…”

“If I have any tattoos? No. I don’t.”

“Hmmm. I think I’m going to have to double check to believe you.”

Castiel failed at containing his smile. “Is that so?”

Dean nodded.

“If that’s what it takes,” said Castiel, and he swung the sheets off of him, letting Dean see for himself, and rested his hands behind his head, as if he was lying in a hammock.

Dean teasingly slid his fingertips on Castiel’s side, making him shiver under his touch.

“Found any?”

“I think it needs a more thorough inspection.” He lowered his head and began kissing his chest. As Castiel ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, he felt Dean’s warm tongue teasing his nipple.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but—I—your eyes, not your tongue, will help you with that.”

“Wrong. You’re wrong.”

His heart was racing. Dean lowered his hand down his stomach, while he busied himself nibbling on his nipple.

“Dean, wait. Food first.”

“Fuck food.”

“_Fuck food? _Did _you _just say that?”

“Yup. I’m not hungry.”

And that was the moment when his stomach, betraying him, growled loudly again.

“You were saying?” chuckled Castiel.

“I’ll—work through it.”

More growling.

“I—I swear I can do it.”

But Castiel stopped him. “I believe you. But as much as I would like to, I still think we need to eat.”

“We could order room service,” suggested Dean.

“That’s an idea. But—”

“But?”

“But,” repeated Castiel, “if we do that we won’t have access to the brunch buffet. The one I know you inquired about. The one you personally called the hotel to ask questions about on the _day _Sam and Jessica told us about the trip. The one you’ve been speaking about all week.”

Dean groaned.

“How about this, then,” said Castiel. “We go take a shower where you can continue your _inspection_—briefly—and then we go for breakfast to refuel.”

“And then we come right back here after.”

“If that’s what you want, then yes. Absolutely.”

Dean pursed his lips.

“I promise it will be the opposite of a cold shower,” said Castiel.

Eventually, despite Dean’s short protests, they carried on with their morning. After they had taken a quick shower—though slightly longer than they had planned—they made their way to the hotel dinning room for the buffet.

The room had a pale, yet cheerful, yellow wallpaper, which brightened the place. The moment they stepped in, the aroma of the food reached their noses, and Castiel, seeing Dean’s massive grin on his face, knew it had been the right call.

He tugged Dean towards the food, their hands interlocked.

Giggling, they made their way through the buffet, exploring their options. Although there was plenty of food left (obviously), there was also a large crowd, which caused a bit of a traffic jam going through the brunch buffet.

Dean rested his chin on Castiel’s shoulder as they waited in line.

“God, I’m starving. I need to eat something, but none of what I have on my plate can be eaten without utensils. All I have is eggs and a thick slice of ham. I’m two seconds away from eating it with my hands.”

Castiel picked one grape off his plate and offered it to him.

“Not exactly what I was hoping for. But thank you.” He lifted his head and moved his hand to grab it. But Castiel recoiled his hand and stared at Dean, amused. After a second of confusion, Dean opened his mouth slightly. Eyes locked on one another, Castiel brought the fruit to his lips and slid it in between his lips. He let Dean chew on it for a second, and then gave him a quick kiss, tasting his lips.

“So?”

“On second thought, that’s delicious. Can I have another one, please?”

Castiel obliged and leaned in. But he lingered a little more on this one. When he broke the kiss, Dean stared at him with dopey eyes for a moment, and then said, “I was actually talking about the grape.”

Castiel, laughing, poked him in his ribs.

“Aw,” said a short elderly woman on the other side of the buffet layout. “I see your rings. Honeymooners?”

Dean and Castiel exchanged a comical look. Castiel shook his head. “Just a weekend getaway.”

“And how long have you been married?”

Dean let out a short laugh. “Um, just—just past five months now.”

“Really? And you’re still all—” she said, gesturing at them. She sighed. “Well, if that’s how you are at the fifth month of your first year, you’re up to a good start. I’m happy for you.”

Not knowing what to say, Dean stayed silent, and Castiel said, “Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. And before she continued walking down the line, she told them, “Be sure to take the waffles. You won’t regret it. Happy Valentines!” She winked at them, and slid away. 

“You think we should have told her the whole scoop?” whispered Dean.

“Why? It’s still the truth.”

Bringing back with them to the table an extreme amount of food, they sat down and started eating.

They had listened to the lady’s advice and had both added waffles to their plates. They had also selected scramble eggs, potatoes, sausages, French toast and muffins. And nearly half of Dean’s plate had been filled with bacon.

After they had taken their first bites, Dean said, “Can I ask you something?”

Castiel nodded, chewing on a potato.

“It’s about the shower. The—when you helped me. Was it something you learned to do from troubled guests at the hotel, or were you just very practical and a heavy partier in your student years?”

Castiel smiled. “Neither.” But his smile vanished quickly and he held Dean’s hand.

“Cas?”

He finished chewing, took a sip of orange juice, and said, “When—when my father lost—when that happened, the adjustment wasn’t—it hadn’t been easy. I was young. Not too young to not notice, obviously, but old enough to understand this was bad. Life altering _bad_. But I was still young. There were a lot of things I didn’t understand. And many things I—I hadn’t taken for granted yet. But my siblings, they were older. Much older. It hit them harder I think.” He looked downwards for a moment. “Their teenage years were rough. I know I mentioned their rebellious side before, but…I may have toned it down.”

Dean nodded, reflecting on Castiel’s words. “Just them?”

Castiel tightened his lips. “As I said before, any rebellious behavior from me wouldn’t have attracted much attention from anyone. But I did have my moments. But it wasn’t—it wasn’t to their degree. It wasn’t really my style.”

“Not the self-destructive type, huh?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Well, um, thank you.”

Castiel, incredulous, frowned. “You’re welcome?” he said, confused. “What for?”

“For helping me out. That night, I mean. And although I don’t remember everything, I know I was blabbering and naked at some point. And I know you were a gentleman. That was…Thank you.”

Castiel was still confused. “There’s no need to thank me for that.”

“I still need to say I appreciate it.”

And they left the conversation there as they continued eating.

The table next to them was holding a large family, which, by the looks of it, constituted of three generations. Castiel and Dean observed the old married couple, surrounded by their children and grandchildren. The husband took a sip of his coffee, but quickly flinched. He looked around the table, evidently searching for something. He then turned to his wife and before he could even say anything, she was already handing him her glass of water. With a spoon, he scooped out a few ice cubes floating in her glass, and dumped them in his coffee. After he swirled his spoon a few time, he tasted his coffee again and seemed satisfied. He kissed her hand and winked at her.

Castiel and Dean exchanged a silent look after witnessing the scene, clearly hit with the same thought.

Dean squeezed on Castiel’s hand.

“I promise that I won’t stop feeding you grapes,” Castiel told him.

And even if he hadn’t specified ‘until our old age,’ Dean still understood what Castiel had meant. “I may hold you to that.”

Despite their eagerness to return to their room, they actually finished their meal (and their morning) in a leisurely manner. Since they now had plans for their afternoon—at the minimum—they decided to postpone their visit at the vineyard and brewery to the following day, so they could remain within walking distance from the hotel today.

Thus, they stayed at their table for a good hour, talking and laughing, just like they usually did during their meals.

None of their behavior was like before, however.

They weren’t seated facing each other, but next to each other.

They held hands as much as they could. Even while eating. And their hands weren’t hidden underneath the table. They were resting on the table.

Castiel whispered a few things in Dean’s ear.

And when Dean went for his second helping, he made sure to steal a kiss from Castiel before leaving the table.

Replenished after their meal, perhaps a little too much for Dean, Castiel suggested they take a walk nearby. Dean made a mini face of disapproval.

“Just a quick one.”

“It was supposed to be a quick shower too.”

Castiel lifted an eyebrow. “Not that I want to point a finger, but whose fault was that?”

Dean bit his lips, attempting to repress a grin. “That wasn’t even a quarter of what I wanted to do. And yet, I’m not going to apologize for that.”

“You better not.” Dean lowered his eyes, appearing almost diffident. Castiel, not able to take his eyes off of him, observed him with such fondness, he wondered if he ever had looked at someone like this before.

If he had, he didn’t remember.

“It won’t have to be long,” he said. “Just a short walk. It’s nice out. We should at least take a bit of fresh air.”

Dean lifted his eyes. Running his thumb over Castiel’s hand, he said, “I don’t mind where we go or what we do, Cas,” he said with a smile. “I just want to be with you.”

Thus, succeeding their delicious meal, and after Castiel had gone to retrieve their coats back in the room, they strolled in the hotel’s garden.

Even in the winter, the garden was something worth experiencing. The large trees covered in pure white snow. The statues they observed. And a splendid frozen lake.

They took pictures to show Sam and Jessica the scenery on their return. And they made sure to take one of them kissing. For themselves only.

Castiel couldn’t stop complimenting how everything was somehow beautiful. How the sky was blue and the air was pure. How winter was now the most underrated season ever. How snow had always been this magical.

With his heart full, Castiel couldn’t remember when he had been this happy.

He couldn’t remember the last time he couldn’t stop smiling.

Nor the last time he had felt so whole.

Just walking quietly next to Dean—just knowing he was right next to him—was enough. Nothing else mattered.

Not where he lived. Not what he did or his job title. Or lack thereof. Not the unknown.

He just wanted this.

Back at the hotel, as Dean was unlocking the door, Castiel rested against the wall, observing everything about him.

If Dean felt Castiel’s stare, he didn’t let it show.

Dean opened the door and let Castiel in.

Castiel barely had time to enter the room when Dean had already wrapped his hands around him, kissing the back of his neck. Castiel smiled and turned around, facing Dean. “Have something in mind, Winchester?”

“A few things, yes.” And kissed him, mouth open, as he was unzipping his coat.

Both coats on the floor, Castiel kissed him hard on the mouth, nudging him towards the wall.

They ran into the long desk where Castiel’s suitcase was resting. Letting Castiel suck on his bottom lip, Dean pushed Castiel’s suitcase aside without looking, giving himself room to sit on the desk.

“You’re giving me a few ideas too, like this,” said Castiel, as he moved his hands on his thighs.

“Like what?”

Castiel slid his hands underneath his thighs, and once he had reached the back of his knees, he raised them slightly, tugging Dean closer to him, as he slowly rolled his hips against him.

Dean instinctively locked his legs around him, and Castiel could feel the heels of Dean’s cowboy boots against his butt.

He paused for a moment, and took a brief step back, to take them off in a flash.

He let the first boot drop to the floor, but once he held the second one, he paused a moment.

“What?”

He let go of the boot and pressed himself against Dean again, smiling. “I don’t want to be this person,” whispered Castiel in a low voice, running his hands over his chest, while Dean was holding him by his waist firmly, “but you’re going have to keep those on at some point.”

Dean took a deep breath.

“Yes, sir.”

They looked at each other for a serious moment, and as Castiel was slowly leaning in for another kiss, he stopped suddenly when rose petals were falling on his head.

Without his notice, Dean had picked up the bowl and had lifted it above their heads.

Dean, chuckling at Castiel’s confused face, grabbed a few rose petals, which had fallen on his lap, and gently rubbed them on Castiel’s mouth.

“Really?” Catsiel said, laughing in his turn.

“What? I had to make use of those at least once.”

Dean, still holding one, brushed it on his lips. And Castiel moved his hand away and kissed him hard on the lips, pulling on his legs again to shove himself against him.

“Bed,” muttered Dean.

With Dean’s legs wrapped around him again, Castiel, with one hand holding him firmly on his side and the other close to his ass, then lifted Dean from the desk and started walking towards the bed.

“Holy shit.” Dean tightened his legs and arms on him, and a few steps later they both fell on the bed, laughing. “You could have hurt your back, you moron,” said Dean, pulling Castiel closer by his shirt.

“But I didn’t.”

Castiel climbed onto Dean. His mouth on his neck, making loud kissing noises, as he held his head slightly to the side, gently tugging on his hair, and started thrusting his hips against him.

Dean’s breathing intensified.

And just as Castiel felt Dean’s hands reaching for his belt, someone said, “I think that’s quite enough of that.”

Startled, Castiel and Dean immediately stopped what they were doing and jumped to their feet, looking around the room to see who was present.

A dark haired man, who was wearing a suit, was sitting in the armchair against the window. 

Castiel gasped when he realized who it was.

“Michael?”

He slowly stood up, and as he fixed his suit, he said in a grave tone, “We need to talk, brother.”


	12. Good News and Bad News

Breathless, Castiel and Dean stared at Michael in disbelief.

“What the hell,” said Dean, wiping his mouth.

“Michael? What are you—how did—”

“I’d say I’m sorry for the intrusion, but I’m really not.”

“Why—what are you doing here?” repeated Castiel.

Michael observed him with a firm look. “To put an end to this ridiculous charade, of course,” he said gravely.

“Wait, a—”

“I need to speak to my brother, Winchester. In private.”

“Michael, you can’t just waltz in here and—”

“I already did, Castiel.” He turned his eyes towards Dean. “I said _leave_.”

“This is _our _room.”

“And for the last time, I need to have an urgent discussion with my _dear _brother.”

Castiel clenched his jaw. “Whatever you need to say, you can say in front of Dean.”

A thin smile grew on Michael’s lips. “How touching.” His eyes on Dean, he studied him with a clear look of disgust on his face. Especially when his eyes fell on Dean’s hand holding Castiel’s. His stare returned to his brother. “I need to make sure that everything you tell me is because that’s what you really think. Not because your _husband _is listening to your every word. And for that, we need to make this private.”

Castiel was furious. He knew Michael had simply made this comment in order to incite Dean to his demand.

“Also, considering the topic I intend to discuss and whom it involves,” he continued, sighing deeply, “it will most likely lead to other details that I think you’d prefer keeping to yourself.”

Castiel frowned at him. He truly had no idea what Michael was implying. Dean huffed and went to grab his coat and his boots.

“I’ll take a walk.”

“So kind of you.”

But Dean stayed on his spot and looked at Castiel, waiting for him to confirm he would be fine if he left his side.

Castiel was fully aware that despite his brother’s relatively calm appearance, he was positively boiling inside. He had witnessed Michael’s temper to its fullest in the past, and while he had grown to cope with his vile attitude, he didn’t wish to subject Dean to it.

So, Castiel gave Dean a short nod and a faint smile, and Dean left the room, but only after glaring at Michael. The door shut behind him and both brothers stared at each other for a brief moment, until Michael finally spoke.

“What the _fuck_, are you doing?”

“What am _I _doing? You’re the one who just—what the hell, Michael?”

Michael scowled at him and took a deep breath.

“When I heard of the grand news,” he began, speaking slowly, “I thought it was a joke. I honestly thought it was. You, married to Dean Winchester. _Winchester_. And to _aid him _keep the ranch. After everything that—” He huffed. “You! Leaving New York. Your life. Your work.” He let out a short laugh as he shook his head. “I thought it was absurd as, for one, I would have heard about it from you.”

“Michael, I—”

But Michael cut him off and continued. “But then I was informed from multiple reliable sources that you were indeed married to him and had followed him to Montana. Following those…_rules_. Yeah, I read it! The will. I had to after everything I heard. Un-fucking-real. The idea made me sick to my stomach and I hoped you would return to your life quickly. But the months passed and you remained in that godforsaken place. And _then _the rumors began. The real disturbing ones.” Michael pursed his lips. “I knew this would happen. There is a lot I had to endure hearing about our family over the years, but I have to say that, even with Luce—even with Father—what I heard about you gave me _pause_. But I didn’t believe it. I know how people are. Everything gets out of control and people will say anything, especially when it comes to us. But the damage was done and I discovered you lost your job over it.”

With his hands resting on his waist, he took a moment to breathe.

“I know what that job meant to you. It was everything. So I believed it would have served as the wakeup call you needed. You’d finally stop. But everything I got reported back to me was—”

“Reported back?”

“—that you planned on staying,” he continued. “That’s when I decided that maybe I should check up on you personally.”

He took one step closer, still holding a stern look. “I honestly thought the rumors were really just that. Rumors. That this was just about the ranch. It is bad enough that it has to do with helping the Winchesters, but what I just fucking saw,” he growled. “I would have never believed it if I wouldn’t have seen it with my own eyes.”

“Michael! I don’t understand what your problem is. Why are you so against—I—what does it change?”

His brother’s eyes widened. “_What does it change_? You’re his whore! Just like the rumors said you were!”

Castiel’s stomach dropped. “I—I am not his—”

“Then by all means, explain to me what the hell was I just about to witness?” 

“That’s not—I—we—it’s not like that.”

“No? Why didn’t you tell us then? Why,” he snarled, “did I have to hear from strangers that my little brother—the straight and narrow one of the family—got married to Dean fucking Winchester in exchange for _money_?”

Castiel lost all ability to speak in that moment.

“I know we don’t talk much,” added Michael. “That’s our thing in this family. Fine. I get why you wouldn’t have attempted to reach Father. We both know it’s pointless. Luce and Gadreel—” he lifted a hand, letting out a sigh. “But Anna and me? Anna reaches out to us even though she likes to pretend we don’t exist. And while we knew we wouldn’t be invited, she still told us when she was got engaged. You didn’t say crap. Not even after it happened. That was fucking months ago. Why is that?”

Silence.

“Castiel, why?”

“I don’t know!” he finally blurted out. “It just happened. I—everything happened quickly and I—I had to make a decision and I—”

“Why haven’t we heard anything from you since, then? Does it have to do with the fact that—oh, I don’t know—you’re letting him use you anyway he wants? Fuck, Cas! Father might be a crazy stubborn asshole, but at least he didn’t get fucked into it.”

“Michael, it’s not—”

“I see Dean took the rule of sharing a bed not just in its literal sense. Did he add himself a bonus? I’m curious. Did he specify how many times a week? A day? I want to know how much did the Winchesters think my brother, my own blood, was worth to buy and use as much as they wanted.”

“Michael, stop! That’s disgu—that’s not what’s happening, okay?”

“Then, what? What am I suppose to make of all this when you kept it from us? Why?” he asked, pointing at the bed.

“I went to help him to—but then—we—I—now, I—I lov—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!” screamed Michael, rushing towards him. “Not him!”

He was clutching onto Castiel by his shoulders. He wasn’t hurting him, but his grip was tight—tighter than it needed to be—making Castiel hold his breath.

“Not a fucking Winchester. Not that family.” Michael let go of him in frustration and turned his back to him. “The Winchesters—you’re a damn fool to trust them after what they did to us.”

“What do you mean?” asked Castiel, after regaining his voice. “Father always liked the Winchesters.”

“Is that what you think?” he snorted, looking at him sharply again. “Everybody turned on us, even our friends. Them included. But Henry,” he said, with his finger lifted high up, “he owed Father. For his ranch. For everything that followed for him. And he still didn’t do anything. He didn’t stand up for him. For any of us.”

“But he tried. Henry tried to help us, Michael. To help all of us. Father didn’t let him. He was stubborn. He—”

“Are you hearing yourself, right now? For Father to purposely refuse Henry’s help, it would actually entail that he was aware we existed. That he watched over us. Now, does anything sound _off _about this statement to you?”

Castiel shut his mouth, biting his lips hard.

“Do you really think that he was keeping Henry—or anyone else—at bay from us when he was, well, wherever he was? Like that summer a few years after—after everything had gone to hell.”

Castiel flinched.

“Yes, you remember that summer, don’t you? It’s a miracle we managed to escape social services. We kept a low profile, but what we had to do to survive that summer, without news of where he was or when he’d be back. No money or food—”

“What’s your point?” asked Castiel, absolutely done with this topic.

“Was that one of those multiple occasions where Father would have restricted Henry from helping us? When he came back, he wasn’t even aware how long he’d been gone. But, yes, I suppose that even if he completely lost track of time, he, however, surely managed to keep people off our backs to _aid _us.” He scoffed. “You chose to believe that Henry wanted to help us and that father stopped him, because it’s a much better scenario than him and father just not giving a crap about us.”

Castiel shook his head. “I can’t hold Henry accountable for this, Michael. Regardless of if he could have helped us or not, we weren’t his children. That was on Father to help us. Nobody else.”

“You’re right. The neglect lay with him. No argument there. But you cannot just stand there and act like Winchester was our promised savior we have been denied of. He didn’t care. He never did.”

He stepped closer to Castiel again.

“Now, you need to wake up and get real. Fast.” He straightened Castiel’s shirt. “I’m sure that after a few months of having had nothing else to do but to look blankly at trees and cows, the warm body lying next to you must have become much more tempting and acceptable than it had been when you first arrived. But don’t be an idiot. They’re using you. They are laughing at us. Still. By destroying you slowly. Look at what happened to you since you arrived at the ranch. They’ve cut you off from everything else. You don’t have any other options.”

“I do have options.”

Michael lifted an eyebrow. “Like what? And why are you still here, then?”

“The six months aren’t done,” said Castiel, as Michael pursed his lips, “and Dean, he—he helped me. He found other places I could go after if I want—”

Michael started laughing. “Did he now?”

“Yes.”

“_He _found you employment. You didn’t do it?”

“I—he wanted to help me. He just started to look into it, but—he said the people are decent and interested.”

“Do you have proof?”

Castiel opened his mouth and shut it. He swallowed. “No, but—I believe him.”

“Are you that gullible?”

“He has no reason to lie!”

“He has _every _reason to lie! You know it’s not that easy for us. He’s either buttering you up, just enough to convince you he has your best interest at heart, or he found you said jobs so in the end you would still owe him.”

“That’s not what he’s doing and Dean wouldn’t expect that. He’s not like that. Michael, stop staying he’s—that—he’s not like that!”

“No? Then why say anything at all? Why haven’t they reached out to you? Why not let them contact you instead of him relaying the message, therefore embedding himself into the equation? In fact, why not leave you the information and let you apply yourself _if you so desire_?”

Though certainly not believing what Michael insinuated, Castiel had to admit that he had let his pride get the better of him when Dean had told him the news precisely for that reason. Not because he would have owed Dean, but because it had made Castiel feel slightly incompetent to not have been able to find employment himself.

“That’s why I kept my mouth shut when I helped you,” said Michael.

Castiel winced. “What do you mean? Helped me how?”

“The Lazarus, of course.”

Castiel was completely lost. “Um, I—I don’t understand. What—”

“How do you think you managed to get in that place when nearly everywhere else turned you down?”

Castiel was completely numb and stopped breathing.

“I could see you were struggling,” said Michael slowly. “You were so stubborn. You insisted on going to university. And you insisted in staying in New York, working in places where High Society snobs would eat you whole. And while I kept waiting for you to realize that this was all pointless, I also respected that at least you were trying. You weren’t hiding out like Anna or totally gone off the rails like Luce. It was pointless and all this was only going to end one way, but you were trying. So, I decided to help you.”

“I don’t—”

“I knew Inias. Or should I say, I knew things about Inias.”

Castiel swallowed.

“I suggested he give you a chance. A long, generous one. So he vouched for you. I was surprised and glad that you managed to stay even after Inias had left. I still believed it was meaningless and beneath you—you always had much more potential than that—but you seemed happy, so why not? And this is why I was really confused to hear you threw it all away for—” he stopped his sentence there, letting out a loud sigh. 

Castiel wanted to believe that Michael was simply being an ass in that moment, but he knew it wasn’t the case. He knew that what he was telling him—about the hotel at least—was the truth. He hated admitting it, but he knew it.

He felt like a failure. Useless. And miserable.

At his defeated expression, Michael said, “This is exactly why I never wanted to tell you this. After Inias left, all of it was still your doing, no question. You did it all, Castiel. But to get you there—for _us _to get anywhere—it’s never that cut and dry. So, whatever Dean told you about these places, don’t believe it. They always act like they care, but they don’t. All they care about is themselves.”

Michael buttoned his coat.

“Before I leave, you need to know one thing. I heard through the grapevine that a storm is coming at the ranch. Fast. Something is brewing and it will happen no matter what. _Do not be there_. You know how it is when bad things happen around us. We are immediately held accountable for it. I don’t want that for you. It’s going to be bad for Dean no matter what. And if you stay, not that I care about him, but if a Novak is standing next to him when it happens, you’re doing neither of you a favor.”

“What’s going to happen? What do you know? How do you know?”

“I know a lot, Cas. Especially about the Winchesters.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Just what I said. Go home. I am not kidding. And until you leave that place, we’re done. And you just learned how much I was actually helping you out.”

Michael walked passed him, heading for the door, while Castiel didn’t move a muscle. He stared at the window, watching snowflakes falling. His heart was heavy and he felt like he had aged years in one conversation.

“Michael?” he asked, still not looking at him. “Are you the one who told Hannah?”

“There’s hope for you after all,” he answered, holding the door handle. “Glad to see you’re not that dense. Yes. I had to do something. I thought she, of all people, would be able to bring you back to your senses. Which proves that you can’t count on anybody.”

Castiel turned around to face his brother.

“Not everybody, no. But some can still be trusted,” said Castiel.

Michael took a good long look at him and said, “You think that would be the case for him if it comes down between the ranch and you? Considering that’s not what Henry did, I wouldn’t hold my breath too much on that one.”

Castiel swallowed.

“Look out for yourself, Cas. _Go. Home_,” he said as a final warning, before striding out the door.

Castiel, hit by wave of horror, stayed still for a moment. Until he decided that he wasn’t done asking questions and raced after him.

Pulling the door wide open, he dashed down the hallway just in time to see Michael disappear in the elevator.

Castiel let himself lean on the wall, trying to not panic. Experiencing the aftershock of the heavy conversation, he felt his eyes prickling and a massive pit in his stomach. He rubbed his hands over his face and rested his palms over his eyes, as if it would stop the tears from falling.

After a minute, during which, he tried his best to bury everything down, he took a deep breath and decided he should head back to his room to get his coat and scour the grounds for Dean.

The moment he turned around, however, his heart dropped when he noticed that Dean was standing right by the door, with his eyes glued to the floor. One look at him and Castiel knew Dean had remained on that very spot all along.

Which meant he had heard everything.

Every insult Michael had said about his family. About the two of them. Everything.

Following Michael’s disturbance, Castiel and Dean somehow returned to the room in a haze, dragging their feet, to mull things over.

Quietly.

And individually.

Due to shock, fear and denial, neither of them could find the will to speak on what had just happened.

Every time Castiel attempted to do so, the words were swallowed up by his insecurities and his utter state of confusion.

After a long silence between them, where Dean had been sitting on the edge of the bed and Castiel on the divan, Castiel lifted his head and noticed Dean was watching him shyly.

The desolate expression across Dean’s face made Castiel’s heart sink.

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” he said in a low voice.

Castiel opened his mouth with the full intention to speak, but shut it immediately, fidgeting in his seat.

“Cas?”

He cleared his throat. “About what?” breathed Castiel.

Dean thought for a moment. “Everything.”

Castiel swallowed. “I can’t speak for our families. Me—I—the parts that are facts, yes. Probably. Like the Lazarus. But the rest…”

“The ranch?”

Castiel shut his eyes. “I don’t know. He could be lying just to give me incentive to leave, but even for Michael, that’s pushing it. And it’s not like he was running low on arguments.” And then he added, “What he thought were arguments,” for good measure.

Castiel glanced at Dean, who was simply eyeing the floor.

“Were they? Arguments?”

“Dean, I—what are you asking?”

He bit his bottom lip, thinking. “Are you leaving?”

Silence.

The one time Dean was going straight to the point and Castiel froze a tad longer than he would have preferred to answer.

“No.”

He prayed deep down that Dean believed he was telling the truth.

Castiel was praying that he was indeed telling the truth.

This was the truth he desperately wished for.

But he knew that wishes do not always come true.

While neither of them wanted to give Michael the satisfaction of having spoiled their weekend, they quickly understood after their brief discussion that in no way could they simply pretend like nothing had happened. Castiel and Dean were in no mood to continue their trip.

No vineyard or brewery visit could fix this.

No romantic dinners for two.

No sunset sighting.

Thus, with low spirits, feeling as if someone had physically brutalized them, they danced around that option shortly and concluded it was time for them to return to the ranch earlier than planned.

They checked out of their beautiful hotel and managed to exchange their Sunday night flight for a red-eye on that same night.

Which happened to be Valentine’s Day night.

It was already rather depressing to spend the rest of their day moping around in an airport, but doing so on that _particular _holiday seemed cruel.

Couples around them couldn’t let go of each other, giggling with bright smiles.

And tacky decorations roamed around them, serving as a reminder. As if they would have forgotten.

Castiel had no idea when he had celebrated the holiday—truly celebrated it—last, but to say that he was upset he wouldn’t have the chance to fully appreciate it with someone he cared deeply about was an understatement.

Thankfully, the flight had no delay, and despite everything, Dean managed perfectly well on their way home.

By taxi, they arrived at the ranch in the dead of the night, partially relieved by the fact that they wouldn’t have to explain anything to anyone at this time. They paid the driver a generous tip for having driven them all the way there.

They could have called someone at the ranch for a lift, but this would have brought a panoply of questions and alarms from everyone, and the last thing they wanted was to deal with any of that.

Castiel thought he felt comforted by the familiarity of the house when they arrived, so he judged that coming back might have been a good call.

Until they went to bed.

Lying next to each other in complete silence was now the most heartbreaking thing they had had to experience so far.

Castiel’s heart was heavy. He was confused about many things.

As much as it killed him to admit it, every word Michael had said to him, truth or not, haunted him. And he knew he wasn’t the only one mulling over everything.

But not everything was lost.

After shutting off the light and mumbling good night, Dean slowly reached out for Castiel’s hand over the covers. Castiel squeezed his hand and heard Dean let out a deep breath of relief.

But nothing else happened.

Dean didn’t snuggle himself up to Castiel.

Castiel didn’t pull Dean closer to him.

And no exchange of anecdotes occurred. No secrets. No stories. No questions.

They simply remained as is.

Thus, breaking their rule.

But Dean held on to Castiel’s hand and this was Castiel’s only consolation. And while it had been a small one, he gladly held on to it.

And somehow, after all their terrible exhausting day, they eventually fell asleep.

On the next morning, the crew at the ranch were extremely curious to know why they had come back so soon from their trip, but Castiel and Dean’s grim faces hadn’t prompted people to inquire too deeply about it.

Sam, however, had been another story.

He showed up at their doorstep by lunchtime, and judging by his expression at the sight of Castiel and Dean, it was clear that Sam had many questions.

Castiel, who had been reading in the living room, hoping to distract himself, nodded to him in quiet salutation at his arrival, and before Sam had the chance to begin his interrogation, Dean grabbed his coat and nudged Sam out of the door to have a private discussion outside.

Just as he had found them on that morning after Castiel and Dean’s dreadful fight, the brothers carried on a long conversation on the porch by the patio door.

Trying his best to keep his focus on his book, Castiel couldn’t help but observe them.

He had no idea what they were saying, and he wasn’t going to eavesdrop on them this time around, but whatever it was, they were arguing.

He watched Dean shaking his head vividly on numerous occasions and it appeared from Castiel’s point of view that most of the talking was done by Sam.

Which didn’t surprise Castiel one second.

The conversation ended with Dean saying something loudly with big gesticulation, and turning himself away from Sam, looking at the woods in front of them.

Sam stood still for a moment, staring at his brother. He took a step forward and said something, which made Dean lower his head and stomp on one foot.

He paused, offered a few last words, and then gently patted him on the back.

Sam took a deep breath, and as he was readying himself to leave, he spotted Castiel looking at them from the living room. Unbeknownst to Dean, Sam gave him a desolate smile and shyly waved him goodbye before leaving.

To Castiel’s dismay, the following week did not offer much improvement with Castiel and Dean’s relationship.

Besides brief occasions, like on the night of their return home, when one of them had reached out for the other’s hand, there hadn’t been any clear depiction of signs of affection between the two. No hug. No kiss. No cuddle.

And definitely no sex.

It was as if the trip had never occurred.

Or perhaps even worse than that.

While the awkwardness level between them had been high before, the possibility of the two of them sharing and becoming more had still been hopeful.

However unlikely.

Now, after having tasted that possibility—enough to know what it could be, but not long enough to discover what it could have become—sorrow quickly increased, leaving nearly no room for that hopeful promise.

Neither of them was avoiding the other, but something felt broken.

Furthermore, because of the attack, Michael and the impending doom hovering over the ranch, Castiel’s sweet and sensuous dreams of Dean soon turned into nightmares.

Of Dean and everyone mocking him.

Of Dean throwing him out of the door.

Of Dean telling him that he meant nothing.

Nearly ten days after their return, Castiel woke up in a sweat and with his heart racing due to a nightmare for the fifth consecutive night. After a few seconds of settling down, he sat up quickly when he realized Dean wasn’t lying next to him.

The bathroom door was shut, and while he didn’t hear anything, no water running, the light was creeping from under the door.

Castiel took a deep breath and reclined on his back, waiting for Dean’s return.

But when a considerable amount of time had passed, and Dean was still in the bathroom, he sat up again and listened more carefully.

Nothing. There wasn’t a single sound coming out of that bathroom.

Which Castiel thought odd.

He left his warm bed and advanced towards the door.

Having practically reached it and still not hearing anything, he pursed his lips and decided that he should perhaps simply leave Dean to his privacy.

But just as he was stepping away, he heard a distinctive sound reminiscent of weeping coming from the bathroom.

“Dean?”

A soft gasp was heard.

“Dean? Are you okay?”

“Yes, just—just a second,” he said in a broken voice.

But nothing.

Castiel softly knocked on the door. “Dean? Can I come in?”

Silence.

“I’m opening the door,” announced Castiel, before doing so.

Dean was sitting at the edge of the tub. His arms were crossed over his chest. His eyes were puffy and red. And he was desperately trying to even out his breathing.

“Dean.”

Castiel felt his throat tighten at the sight. He rushed to him, but the moment he took a step forward, Dean stood up and backed away.

“I’m fine. I just—” he took a deep, broken breath. “I just need a minute,” he said, trying to sound convincing to Castiel as much as to himself. But the instant he finished his sentence, his lips trembled and he let out a sob.

Castiel immediately wrapped his arms around him and Dean let him do it this time. Resting his head on his shoulder, Dean let out shallow breaths. He clutched onto Castiel tightly, while Castiel was rubbing his back, hoping it would soothe him.

When he felt Dean loosen his grip, he nudged him backwards to get a proper look at him. Castiel, with his hands on each side of his face, brushed his thumbs over Dean’s tears.

“I’m just tired,” said Dean defensively.

And while that might have been the truth, Castiel also knew there was more to the story than this.

“Tell me.”

Dean put his hands over Castiel’s and lowered them away from his face. But he held on to them.

“I knew this would happen.”

“We don’t know what’s going to happen,” said Castiel with as much confidence he could master.

“Cas, I—this is torture. You should…I don’t want you to go, but…Just waiting here for it to happen...” He took a deep breath. “There are moments where I tell myself everything will work out, and I really believe it, in here,” he said, with his hand on his heart. “But then I—five seconds later I can’t see how any of this can end other than you leaving or you somehow being destroyed by this, and you’ll end up leaving anyway and—”

“Dean, slow down. I—”

“—and I’m literally paralyzed at the thought. If what Michael said is true and I—you—it’s—”

“Dean, breathe.” He lowered his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek. Castiel had to say something encouraging or he knew he would loose him on the spot. Only, every single fearful thought Dean was agonizing over were the exact same ones feeding Castiel’s nightmares.

“I don’t —don’t know how, but we’ll figure it out. Okay?” Dean was still looking at the ground.

Castiel kissed him quickly at the corner of his mouth. And then once more on his lips. Gawking at him, Dean ran his hands along Castiel’s torso. And after a short moment where Castiel could sense Dean’s hesitation as he studied him, Dean then leaned in and kissed him hard on the mouth. Holding Castiel tightly, he glued himself to him, and rubbed his crotch against his with confidence. Dean devoured his neck. And his hands urgently explored underneath Castiel’s pants. Soon, with Dean’s eagerness, Castiel’s heart was racing and he was caught between the counter and Dean, who showed no signs of slowing down by continuing pressing himself against him.

This sudden turn in Dean’s behavior, though slightly questionable, went straight to Castiel’s groin, and all he could do was fervently enjoy Dean’s lustful thoughts.

He could taste Dean’s desire. His agony. His hunger.

But something was wrong.

Castiel longed for his aching touch. His contagious moans. His soulful kisses.

But something was wrong.

Dean’s inhibition was slipping away. At last. Even more so than on their night at the hotel.

But no matter how deeply Castiel wanted it, wanted Dean finally not holding himself back, something was wrong.

It was as if something had lodged itself between them.

And he knew Dean was feeling it too. He suspected that was why he was desperately trying to hold on to that urgent feeling.

Breathing heavily, he was about to pull down Castiel’s pants, but came to halt. His forehead dropped on Castiel chest for a moment.

After catching his breath, he lifted his head and one glance at Castiel was all he needed. As if he suddenly realized what his hands were holding, he let go of the rim of Castiel’s pajama pants, painfully shut his eyes and told him, “I’m sorry. Fuck. I—I don’t know what I’m doing. I thought—I’ll leave you alone.”

And dashed away from him.

“Dean, wait.”

He caught up to him before he could reach the bedroom door leading to the hallway. But Dean tried to free himself of his hold.

“Please, Cas. I’m just so, so tired. I get it. You don’t lo—I’ll go sleep on the couch. I can’t—” He brought his hands to his face.

“Dean, please,” he said, facing him. He gently held his wrists and lowered his hands to look at him in the eyes. “Please, don’t shut me out. I know I haven’t—I haven’t been good about this either. I just—I’m emotionally exhausted too,” he whispered. “You know how I feel about you. Don’t ever doubt that. Don’t—don’t read too much into this.” Dean swallowed. “There are too many things happening at once and I’m overwhelmed by everything. We both are.”

Dean took a deep, long breath.

“Please, let’s go back to bed. Sleep is what we need.”

After a short hesitation on Dean’s part, he followed Castiel. They shut off the bathroom light, slid under the covers next to each other, and lay on their sides. Their foreheads were resting against one another, and Dean was holding Castiel’s hand against his chest.

“I don’t have any plans on leaving, Dean. Quite the opposite. Is that clear?”

Dean nodded.

Castiel watched Dean fall asleep.

A few days later, after a long day when Castiel had been subjected to a never-ending argument regarding squashes and potatoes between Kevin and Ash, Castiel was in a hurry to go back home, take a shower and squeeze in a nap before dinner.

For the past couple of weeks, dinner had occurred much later than usual, because Dean had been working relentlessly, not unlike it had been in December

And even though Dean had every reason to do so as an excuse to avoid him, Castiel was not convinced it was the case this time. He much preferred believing the fate of the ranch was the cause of it.

Which was why he was surprised to find Dean already at home, sleeping, well before dinnertime.

He was lying on the bed, in comfy clothes over the covers, with a damp towel near his feet. Castiel, wanting to make sure he was fine, advanced quietly to take a better look at him. Dean was breathing deeply with his eyes shut, appearing completely peaceful. Castiel deduced that sleep had finally caught up to Dean, and that he should let him rest.

He went to the bathroom and took his shower quickly, hoping he wouldn’t disturb him.

Washed and feeling better, Castiel exited the bathroom, tiptoeing towards the bedroom door, but came to a halt, deciding that the notion of taking a nap in the living room was simply ridiculous when he could perfectly do so here in bed next to Dean. At this point, sleeping and sharing the same bed should really not be an issue anymore.

Still wishing to not wake him, Castiel lay next to Dean, and after a deep breath, he felt his body becoming heavier and fell asleep.

He was woken up hours later when he heard a loud thumping.

Someone was knocking on the front door.

He could hear it all the way from the other end of the house.

“Dean. Someone’s at the door.”

Dean woke up completely confused about everything. What was happening. Where he was. What time it was. What Castiel was doing there.

He clumsily grabbed his phone and realized it was nearly ten o’clock.

“Am I seeing this right or…I don’t think I’m awake.”

“Um, no. It says ten.”

More commotion coming from the front door.

“I slept this whole time? What—you slept too? And who the hell is banging at the door at this hour?”

“Maybe Donna or—”

“They would have called me,” said Dean, lifting his phone. “No notifications whatsoever.”

“Well,” said Castiel, yawning, “at least they’re knocking and haven’t barged in. So there’s that.”

Dean turned to him, frowning.

“Too soon?”

“No, just—”

More banging.

Dean let out a groan. “Let’s see who it is before they tear down the door.”

Once in the kitchen area, Dean opened the door, revealing an unexpected guest.

A man with dark hair and a devious smile, wearing a black expensive looking suit, stood before them.

“About bloody time,” said the man, slithering inside the house.

Castiel looked at Dean, confused at the sight of their visitor.

Dean let out a sigh and muttered, “This ought to be good,” under his breath, as he shut the door.

Their guest was taking a quick look around the place and settled himself at the dinning room table.

“Sorry for late the intrusion, boys, but people could be watching. This needed to be private where hopefully not too many preying eyes will see. And this is rather urgent, so if you please,” he said, gesturing at the table.

Castiel and Dean followed him, silently, and sat on the side opposite of him.

Castiel’s eyes kept bouncing between their guest and Dean, waiting for someone to explain what was happening.

But everyone remained silent.

“What’s this about?” Castiel asked Dean with an uncertain look.

“I’d like to know too,” said Dean.

“Dean, nice to see you again. And hello, Castiel,” said the man. “Pleasure to officially meet you.”

“Crowley,” said Castiel.

“You know him?” asked Dean, aghast. “You know each other?”

Castiel and Crowley stared at each other. When Crowley deduced that Castiel would remain silent, he said, “Cas here knows me from the good old days when Novaks weren’t taboo yet.”

“And he resided at the Lazarus a few times,” said Castiel to Dean.

“Yes, that too. Never saw much of you there, though. It’s almost like they were keeping you in the back. Purposely. Every time I was there.”

Castiel lowered his eyes a moment, but returned his gaze to Crowley.

“Well, now that this is all out in the open, it makes everything less complicated of sorts in terms of introduction. So I’ll get right to the point. I have information to share. Information that I think would be greatly beneficial to you both, and if you hear me out, I think you’ll accept my proposal.”

“One,” said Dean, even before Crowley had finished his last sentence, “I don’t trust you for one second. I mean, why would I? I know of your methods. And don’t think I forgot your involvement in that mishap we had a few years back. Two, even if we believe you, what the hell could you possibly say that would matter to us?”

“That is for you to find out, squirrel. If you let me voice it.”

Dean let out a deep sigh. “Go ahead. But don’t hold your breath.”

Crowley smirked. “I find it marvelous that you said ‘we.’”

“What?”

“In your little speech just now. ‘Even if _we _believe you.’ You said _we_, not if _I _believe you. _We_. That is really heartwarming to hear, Dean.”

“What do you want,” said Castiel, getting impatient.

“To propose to you a business deal of sorts.” He smirked and leaned back in his chair. “There are people highly placed within your backyard who want something very specific from this place, and while you’ve managed to put sticks into their bike wheels so far, which I have to admit is an achievement in itself—bravo—it also only resulted in irritating them even further. And greedy people, when they are angry, they tend to do desperate stupid things.”

Dean and Castiel kept quiet and Crowley continued after his dramatic pause.

“Some little birdies are planning a coup. With the six months deadline arriving quickly, they are getting restless.”

“They can’t do anything before that,” said Dean.

“They are trying,” said Crowley, playing with an empty cup on the table. “And they are very determined.” He let go of the cup and lifted his eyes to Dean. “They know you are planning to buy out the less desirable investors once you get control.”

Castiel shifted his eyes away from Crowley and stared at Dean questioningly. Dean swallowed and lowered his eyes at his stare.

“That is what you are planning to do, no?”  
“I’m hoping to, yes.” Dean glimpsed at Castiel, and returned his eyes to Crowley.

“Not if they get to you first. They are slowly rounding up the people you really want to keep around. Before dear Henry passed, no one would have folded or gone for it. Not like that. While not everyone agreed to his methods, they still respected him. But he’s gone and you…well, you’re not Henry Winchester. They don’t feel like they have the same protection. Or devotion.”

“So what does that leaves us then?” asked Dean gravely.

“What if I told you that I can produce evidence of this said scheme, as well as all previous sabotage linked to the ranch, to aid you in exposing every single backstabbing scum, so you would once and for all get rid of the bad weeds that have made their way into your garden?”

Dean and Castiel exchanged looks.

“And in good faith, to prove that I am serious about my claim, I will tell you the name of the one who has been the architect of all this sabotage.”

Dean frowned.

“One person is running the show?”

Crowley pursed his lips. “That’s a complicated question. Many probably believe they do. But it’s more like a team effort.”

“Great.”

“But they recruited one person to help them with this pursuit.”

Dean sighed. “Who is it?”

“It’s—”

“Michael,” said Castiel, at the same time as Crowley. “My brother is doing this, isn’t he?”

“What?” croaked Dean.

“That is correct,” said Crowley. “Michael is the orchestrator of this whole scene. Has been for a couple of years now.”  
Castiel, swallowing hard, glanced at Dean, who was gawking at him.

“I see you two love birds need to discuss a few things, but I hope this helps in proving that I am telling you the truth. I know about what has been done here. I know what is planned on being done. And I know who is on the payroll.”

“I know who they are,” said Dean.

“Yes, I’ve seen your list of suspects and I’m here to tell you that you’re short of a few names. And by few, I mean many. So, I’ll give you the list—the fully detailed one—and with this information, along with the other stuff, it will be in your ability to rattle a few of them. But ultimately, you decide how to proceed with this information.”

“What does that mean?” asked Castiel.

“Given the information, you shouldn’t really have a problem convincing them to accept you buying them out quickly and fairly. However, it will require you to break your piggy bank. And then some. On the other hand, you could avoid spending too much with some of them. If some of the information I have would become public, it would most likely mean jail time for some people.”

Castiel flinched. “You want us to blackmail them?”

“I told you, you do whatever you want with this information. You can hold it against them or you can simply go to the authorities. You won’t have to buy them out then, or _persuade _them out, but given the delicate information, it will most likely drag the ranch along with them, and then that will be very bad for business.”

Castiel took a deep breath, not loving either of these options.

“If you buy them out,” he continued, “while being a problem for your wallet, I heard that you’re making new friends over at Kendricks. If they jump in after, that might help you balance the whole thing, no? You will have to delay a few projects, but it will keep this place running without making you dig your grave, I think. And of course, there’s me.”

“You?”

“Yes, this is the part where we discuss my due for helping you.”

“What do you want? Shares? What?”

“Mother of sins, no,” he said, laughing. “But I do want three things.”

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

“The first one is that I want one of your side businesses, Dean.”

“Excuse me?”

“Relax. I don’t want you to give it to me. I want you to sell it to me. Fair and square.”

“Why? And which one?”

“Does it matter? I assure you it won’t be anything you’ll miss as it doesn’t have anything to do with the ranch. So, who cares really? We were just discussing a moment ago how you’ll need a bigger wallet. This would help.”

Dean huffed. “Which one?”

“Is there one you’d really have a problem selling over keeping the ranch?”

Dean held his stare, but shook his head. “What else?”

“I want you to put in a good word for me with Dr. Hess.”

Dean snorted. “I’m trying to put in a good word for myself right now and I’m barely succeeding. How am I supposed to do that for you too?”

“That is your problem.”

“Why Hess?”

“The drama within this establishment is creating ripple effects that are starting to reach other places. And none of the real showdown has even occurred yet. You’re not the only one who will need to make new friends. You arrange a meeting. That’s all.”

“But—”

“What’s the third one,” said Castiel, cutting Dean off.

“I want information from you, Castiel.”

This was not what he had been expecting.

“No,” said Dean.

“I didn’t ask you, Dean.”

“The answer is still no. Look, you wanting me to sell stuff and talk to Hess is one thing, but you keep him out of this.”

“He’s already in it, you moron. _You’re married_. By law, he is involved with this place. He is therefore as responsible for it as you are. If you go bankrupt, so does he.”

“What information do you want?” asked Castiel.

“Cas, no.” 

“The Lazarus,” said Crowley. Castiel stared at him gravely, but remained quiet, so Crowley continued. “You worked there for nearly a decade. You know things. You know people. And I have a few questions.”

“Like?”

Crowley only smiled.

“Can you give me a hint?”

“I’ve already given you two plenty of hints.” Crowley stood up and they followed. “I’ll see myself out and let you think on it.”

He walked towards the door, but paused before reaching it. “You know what amuses me the most about all this? Is that all this was possible because of your arrival, Castiel.”

“Me?”

“For the longest time I thought it was because of Henry. With him gone, I thought people started to slack. Mistakes were made. But no. This had nothing to do with Henry. This was about having a Novak attached to the place. Just by principle, that made a lot of people nervous. Even the ones who weren’t in the know. That’s what caused certain bees to get real reckless.”

“Why would they be nervous about a Novak being here if they are following Michael’s lead?”

“Not everyone knows that detail. For obvious reasons. And of what I’ve heard, he has a certain talent to operate from afar. To keep his hands clean.”

“Like what you’re doing right now,” pointed out Dean.

“Now that’s a compliment and I’ll take it. Thank you, Dean,” he said, smirking, which made Dean roll his eyes. “But as I was saying, he likes to operate from afar, and with Cas here, bringing a Novak connection, that was about the last thing Michael wanted. I bet he had to take other tactics and it must have slowed down his whole thing. They had to improvise. And that’s when they made mistakes. Which I noticed. I know for a fact, that if it hadn’t been for your presence on the ranch, I wouldn’t have found half of what I did. So, it is quite fortunate that you came here. But in any case, they are getting desperate, as I said. The longer you wait, the more time you’re giving them time to do something drastic. So, don’t think on it too long.”

He saluted them and stepped outside.


	13. The Deadline

After a quick glance outside the door’s window, Dean locked the door and leaned his back against it.

Castiel and Dean remained in their respective spots, staring at each other for a few minutes as they processed what had just occurred.

Dean then took a few steps forward, passed the kitchen island and stopped near the couch of the living room. His hands were on his waist and he was staring blankly into space.

Castiel, who was still seated at the dining table, was studying him with acute attention, waiting for him to say something.

After he exhaled deeply, as if he had been holding his breath since Crowley’s departure, Dean said, “Did that just happened or am I still asleep?”

Castiel let out a nervous laugh.

“It happened.”

Another exchange of looks between them told Castiel that Dean was feeling the same odd mixture of emotions he was, something between panic and jubilation.

Dean lifted his hand and said, “Okay, let’s just—talk about this calmly.”

“Yes, and—and brainstorm his proposal.”

Dean nodded. “Right.” He took another deep breath. “I’m hungry. Let’s—I need to—we should discuss this clearly. I’ll make us some toast or something quick to nibble on.”

“Good idea. I’ll make coffee.”

“Great.”

“Is coffee—is it too late for coffee? Something stronger?”

Dean shook his head. “No. I—I know I need to be alert. So, thumbs up for coffee.”

Not long after, they both took a seat on the couch. Hot mugs in hands, the already half empty French press coffee maker rested on the coffee table, and a plate with a stack of toasts and fruits was right next to it.

“Do you think he’s bullshitting us?” asked Dean.

“I don’t see what he could win by lying. Unless,” said Castiel, tilting his head, “he’s working as a double agent of sort.”

“Great. That’s reassuring.”

“I doubt it, however. If that’s the case, it implies he is under their thumbs, and somehow, I’m having a lot of difficulty believing Crowley would be very happy with that condition.”

“I agree about that one,” said Dean grimly. He took a sip of his coffee. “Okay, let’s say for now that everything he just told us is true. For argument’s sake.”

Castiel nodded.

“Should I accept?”

Castiel frowned.

“It’s your ranch, Dean. I can’t—it’s your choice.”

“But I’m asking you. Do you think I should do it?”

“Let’s discuss the pros and cons. And then—maybe that will help?”

Dean nodded. “Let’s start with the cons.”

“All right.”

Dean swallowed hard. “Um, well I don’t really like how it all sounded sketchy. He’s implying blackmail and I—honestly, there isn’t much I wouldn’t do for this place, but the point of all this is to rid our lives of skeevy characters, not become one myself.”

“Admirable and I approve,” said Castiel, smiling. “But I don’t think you would need to stoop to that level.”

“How? What’s the point of having this info if I can’t use it?”

Castiel pursed his lips and briefly reflected on the matter. “You could use it in a different way. First of all, you’ll know who cannot be trusted. If they are the employees under your charge, you’ll most likely have probable cause to fire them.”

“And the people I cannot fire? Like investors? Short of a few spies here at the ranch—and I’m having difficulty swallowing that—pretty sure investors are the main problem. And I can’t fire them.”

“But you can buy them out as he suggested. As you were planning.” He paused for a moment and Castiel asked gently, “When did this happen?”

“A while ago. Adler, he’s—calling him pushy is an understatement. The only reason why I haven’t started yet is because the six months aren’t done, of course. No major decisions can be done until then, and Granddad had specified that included stuff about investors, like bringing in new ones or…buying them out.”

“Well, maybe the information Crowley has will give them incentive to accept your offer once the deadline passes.”

“Which is kind of blackmail,” argued Dean.

“Depends on the information, Dean. And don’t forget, at least you’ll know who you need to buy out now. I don’t know how many of them there are, but I generally believe people won’t resist too long if you offer them money.”

Castiel extended his arm to take one of the toasts.

“Not all of them though,” sighed Dean. “Some of them won’t want to budge.”

“If that’s the case, then it means they have the most to lose. Which also probably means they have the most to hide. As in they got their hands dirty.”

“Cas, I—”

“It doesn’t have to be blackmail,” repeated Castiel. “You can give them an option. To buy them out fairly, and if they don’t, you inform them that once the six months is up, which is less than two weeks from now, you are planning on making the information public.”

“But then—the ranch—”

“I know. It might hurt it, but not as much as it will hurt them. Crowley mentioned jail time. If you had the option between money or jail, which one would you chose?”

Dean let out a deep breath.

“That can be as a last resort,” added Castiel. “If some of them are being difficult. But like I said, in my experience, especially people who only care about their due and no one else, they’ll follow the money.”

Dean chewed on the crust of his toast, mulling everything over, as Castiel poured more coffee in his mug to keep it warm.

“The thing is,” said Dean, after a big bite into his toast, “even if we do all this, it still doesn’t guarantee everything. I don’t really care about selling him one the businesses—I’m not thrilled about it—but he’s right. Next to this place, it doesn’t compare. But I’ll be pissed if I do this and then it still somehow doesn’t change anything. Or if he’s revealed to be a two-faced backstabbing jerk.”

“You could suggest only selling it to him once we’re in the clear.”

Dean turned his head. “That’s a good idea. And it would certainly make more sense with the Hess issue as I won’t be able to do any of that if everything goes to hell.” He took another bite. “But I doubt he’ll just give us everything if we tell him he has to wait until all this is done and dealt with. I’d honor my word, but I get why he wouldn’t trust me blindly too.”

“I could give him the information he wants about the Lazarus as a sign of good faith.”

Dean made a face of disapproval. “I hate that he asked you this. I was actually going to insist he leaves you out of this.”

“So gallant of you, Dean,” said Castiel, beaming at him. “But as Crowley pointed out, I am already involved in this. And I don’t mind doing my part. Quite frankly, I’m a bit confused as to what he believes I could possibly know. I—nothing I could tell him about the hotel—its employees or guests—is that scandalous. Nothing he could use as leverage, in any case.”

“Still, I don’t like it.”

“It’s my information and I have a right to share it if I want to or not.”

Dean shook his head stubbornly. But a smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

“The pros, now?” suggested Castiel.

“Um, wait I—”

“What?”

Dean opened his mouth, but then bit on his lips hard and looked in front of him, avoiding Castiel’s eyes.

“Dean?”

“It’s not really a con, but I—I have questions. About Michael.”

Castiel’s stomach dropped. He figured they would have to discuss this subject eventually, particularly since their trip, but he had also deeply hoped it wouldn’t come to that length. Mostly because he wished he had been wrong about his brother.

Unfortunately, no such luck there, it seemed.

Still not looking at him, Dean said, “You knew about him?”

“I guessed,” specified Castiel. “I didn’t know for sure until Crowley confirmed it. That’s why I kept it to myself.”

“And since when did you suspect him?”

“Not long. At some point this week. I—the conversation we had—I must admit that it occupied my thoughts considerably since. A lot more than I’d like to admit.”

Dean nodded and shifted in his seat.

“At first, I was more focused on—but anyway.” Castiel cleared his throat briefly. “I—I kept replaying it in my head and the more I thought about it, certain things he had mentioned, it was a little too extreme, even for Michael. Unless there was more to it.”

“Like his general hatred for me and my family.”

“Dean, you know I—that’s his problem.”

“What if what he said was true? What if Granddad—he said it in your letter. That he regretted not having done more.”

It was Castiel’s turn to divert his gaze now. They were dangerously close to approaching the topic of his childhood, which Castiel never liked broaching. Under any circumstances.

“He also said that he tried, and I truly believe that. And even then,” continued Castiel, hoping to swirl the conversation in another direction, “that doesn’t grant Michael the right to do any of this.”

“So everything Michael said was a lie?”

Castiel shut his eyes.

“No. It wasn’t—“ started saying Castiel, but he stopped mid-sentence. He leaned back into the couch, and after a short pause, he said, “Most of what he criticized your family about wasn’t a lie, it was his _opinion_. How he experienced it. How he remembers it. But he can sit there and blame you all he wants. You weren’t the cause of our problems.”

“But Cas, it doesn’t change anything, though. He’ll still believe whatever he wants and the problem is that he acts on it. In a really dangerous way. If he was the one in charge, it means that these guys who hassled you—who literally assaulted you—they worked for him. If that’s what he’s doing to his own brother, I—to what length is he going to go if we manage to stop him?”

Castiel let out a deep sigh. “I don’t think the attack was Michael’s plan, actually. I remember what these guys said and that was just—they weren’t supposed to harm us. I think they were just supposed to scare us. To scare me. To make me leave. That’s why he told Hannah. And that was the whole point why he talked to me in person too. I know Crowley implied that Michael wanted me out of here because it risked exposing his tie to all this, which in parts I believe is true, but I don’t think it’s the whole thing. He didn’t want me in the cross fire either. He’s harsh and deranged, but…let’s just put it this way: he wouldn’t have been this furious about the rumors if he didn’t care about me on some level. And six months deadline or not, it seems like they are moving forward with a plan, making my presence irrelevant on that point.”

“Okay, but he still hates my guts,” said Dean. “If he doesn’t get his freaking revenge or whatever—” Dean sighed deeply.

Castiel thought for a moment. “Michael is not who worries me. He’ll be mad. Furious. He might not want to speak to me again, but he won’t do more than that. You think he was happy when Anna just up and left? Or when Lucifer got arrested? And yet he’s still talking to them. No. Michael is not the main problem. He didn’t start this thing, he got recruited into it. The real troublemakers are the ones we should focus on.”

Castiel thought Dean would continue arguing, but he remained silent.

“Anything else for cons?” asked Castiel.

“Not at the moment, no. You?”

Castiel shook his head. “What about the pros? Dean, it—it would help you with the ranch. You could really take control of the ranch and make sure there’s no internal plotting once and for all.”

“And you could stay,” said Dean softly. He glanced at Castiel. “With the threat gone, and if Michael doesn’t—like you said—”

“He won’t.”

“You could stay. For real. If you want.”

“_If _I want?”

Dean swallowed.

Castiel put down his mug and slid himself closer to Dean. After a long pause, where they both stared at each other with devouring looks, Dean leaned in and kissed him.

It was a soft kiss at first. As if he was treading with caution.

But as his hands began to wander over Castiel’s shirt, exploring his biceps, chest and lower abdomen, Dean’s kisses deepened.

Castiel smoothly pulled Dean onto his lap. One hand on his waist, Castiel drew him closer by easing his other hand on his back and up to his neck. Their noses practically touching, Castiel opened his mouth and teased the tip of his tongue on Dean’s lips. Dean followed his lead, and soon they were massaging each other’s tongues in a slow lingering way.

And there it was again. Dean letting his walls crumble down. Exposing himself wholeheartedly.

Castiel could taste his craving.

But this time it wasn’t of sorrow. Or even a hint of anxiety like on their first night.

It was of a deep fervor and warmth.

And it was now spreading through Castiel’s chest down to the tip of his toes.

Dean broke the kiss and took a deep breath. “I—I think—I should stop before we get to a point where I won’t—I—”

“And that would be bad?

Dean observed him as if it was a trick question. Castiel reflected on the matter for an instant. He took his hand and asked him, quite seriously, “Do you regret our night at the hotel?”

Dean’s eyes widened. “No, Cas. Fuck, no. You?”

“Absolutely not. And since then—and when—the—the other night, it wasn’t because I didn’t want to, Dean. I—fuck, I wanted you so much, it’s just…you were upset. _We _were upset. And—and it felt—”

“Wrong. I know,” he whispered. “It wasn’t like…it wasn’t like before. At the hotel. I—that’s why I stopped. I just wasn’t sure if for you…or you just…”

“If I had changed my mind?”

Dean lowered his eyes.

“I never changed my mind about that, Dean.”

Dean then stared at him with such tenderness that Castiel almost wondered if he was upset again.

Castiel caressed his cheek with his thumb. “And how do you feel about it now?”

After observing him, Dean smiled and slowly helped Castiel out of his shirt. He ran his fingertips on Castiel’s collarbone. To his pectoral, making sure to brush over his nipples. And down to his lower abdomen.

“I want you.”

And leaned in, kissing him hard on the mouth. Castiel moved his lips on his bearded jawline and to his neck, while Dean was pressing himself against him, as he was gripping the back edge of the couch.

“What would you like?” Castiel asked him, feeling his heart racing. “We never really discussed the—the particulars.”

“Never got the chance to get to that part,” said Dean.

“And now?

“I—I….”

Castiel held him tightly for an instant, moved his mouth to Dean’s ear and said in a grave voice, “Dean, tell me.” He then nibbled on his earlobe, causing Dean to jolt on top of him. “What do you want.”

“Fuck. I—I want you to fuck me.”

“Good. That’s what I want to,” he said. “What else?”

“Cas, I—I want you. Here,” he whispered, pressing his entire body against him with assurance.

“On—on the couch you mean?”

“Yes,” groaned Dean. “Did that happen in one of your dreams?” Castiel detected a hint of amusement in his voice. “Whoever it was, I’m kinda jealous.”

At Dean’s last statement, Castiel stopped for a moment. “Dean, you—you know it was you, right?”

Dean leaned back to look at him. Staring, he asked, “In—in your dreams, you mean?”

Castiel nodded. “Every time.”

Dean opened his mouth, but shut it quickly. He observed Castiel a few seconds and then said, “You don’t have to say that. They were dreams. I know you can’t control—”

“Every time, Dean,” he said, resting his hand on his chest. “I’m—I’m sorry, you didn’t know. I thought I had—I honestly thought I had told you.”

Dean, still observing him, said, “Like, _every time_?”

“Every single one of them.”

A smile grew on Dean’s face. He licked his lips and said, “And, um, did we do anything on the couch?”

“No, I’m afraid the couch never made it. So far.”

Leaning in, he whispered, “Where did you dream of us?”

“In this house?”

“It happened somewhere else?”

“One or two other places, yes,” he softly said on Dean’s lips. He positioned Dean’s hands on Dean’s thighs, gently held his wrists, thus keeping him in place, and started moving his hips so as to rub his crotch right underneath Dean’s butt.

“And, um, where—where was that?” Dean asked, mildly quivering and following his rhythm.

“The barn. Stables.”

“Interesting. Where else? In the house?”

“Bed.”

“Of course. But not the couch?”

“No. The dining room table was a fun alternative.” Castiel could feel the skin of his back sticking to the leather of the couch.

“Was it?” said Dean, biting his lips.

“Very. But we broke it.”

Dean stopped moving and let out a loud laugh. “What?”

“We broke the dining table. It just collapsed under our weight. In my dream.”

“That’s very…realistic and questionable. What exactly were we doing?”

“You want details? Thinking of testing the durability?”

“No, the table’s too far and I want you now.” Dean instantly freed his hands from Castiel’s grip, and the next thing Castiel knew, Dean was running his fingers through his hair, slightly pulling on it, thus exposing his neck to him. Dean’s hungry mouth was on his Adam’s apple and Castiel felt Dean reposition himself on his lap. With his lower ass on Castiel’s crotch, he rolled his hips, teasing Castiel’s cock with his butt.

“Fuck, Dean.” Castiel groaned. “Are you serious about staying on the couch?”

“Deadly.”

“Okay, wait,” said Castiel, resting his hands on his waist to slow him down. Out of breath, he said, “Condoms?”

Dean looked at him for a second. “Do you need to?”

“No,” said Castiel. “I’m—I would have said so before. Like _way _before, but—”

“I’m good too.” And Dean was ready to get busy.

“Wait, wait. We need to—we still need lube.”

“It’s—we can do without it. I don’t mind,” said Dean, leaning in to kiss him, but Castiel stopped him.

He repositioned himself a little and, caressing Dean’s face, he said, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

After a quick glance, Dean lowered his eyes. “I know you won’t.”

“I’d still prefer to use it,” insisted Castiel, but in a gentle manner.

With a small smirk, Dean said, “I’m not leaving this couch.”

“Tell me where it is and I’ll get it,” whispered Castiel. 

Dean nodded and gave him a quick kiss just above his lips.

“That is going to be a very _uncomfortable _walk for you,” said Dean, as he gripped Castiel’s cock over his pajama pants. “Hope you can make it.”

Castiel groaned. “That’s not fair.”

He hurriedly left Dean’s side and went to fetch the bottle of lube exactly where Dean had told him it was—which was in the bottom drawer of their bathroom cabinet, hidden underneath large towels.

When he came back to the living room, however, Castiel was granted a surprise. Dean, lying on the couch, had apparently wasted no time.

On his stomach and stark naked, thrusting his hips into the couch’s cushions, he had already begun prepping himself. With his face to the side and one arm along his back, his fingers were already at work.

Castiel’s heart instantly jumped at the sight.

Once Dean noticed Castiel was back and standing in front of him, he smiled and said, “I told you I was good for it.”

Castiel sat next to him on the edge of the couch and gently grazed Dean’s back, making him shudder, as Dean continued playing with his ass.

Castiel opened the bottle of lube with a firm intention of coating his fingers, but then stopped.

He glanced at Dean. Catching his odd expression, Dean stopped everything he was doing.

“Cas?”

“I’ll help you, if—if that’s what you want, but—” Castiel swallowed.

“But?”

After a long devouring look, he said, “Can I watch you continue?”

Dean blinked.

“You want to watch me?”

Castiel nodded.

Smiling mischievously, Dean took the bottle of lube from Castiel, coated his fingers generously, and gave it back to him. “You’re gonna need it after.”

Dean repositioned himself as he was before, but made sure to keep eye contact with Castiel, who had now stood up and slightly stepped back to gain a better view of the pretty picture Dean was giving him.

As Dean was sliding back in one finger, Castiel let his pants drop to the ground.

Dean, softly moaning, was licking his lips with his eyes glued on him. Watching Dean fingering his own ass, Castiel slid his hand in his underwear and started massaging his throbbing erection.

Dean’s breathing became heavier at the sight of him. He held his breath a moment, and then slowly inserted another finger.

Castiel’s cock was hard and dripping. His knees weakened. And his breaths were becoming louder. He pushed down his underwear and stroked the tip of his cock rapidly. In response, twisting his hips, Dean moaned Castiel’s name.

When Dean had pushed in the third finger, to which he had let out a loud groan, Castiel clumsily walked towards the couch again.

He sat near Dean’s butt and watched him more closely. Dean moved his hand away, as he was catching his breath, and lifted his ass. On his knees, but with his upper body still glued to the couch, Dean waited for Castiel to begin.

Massaging his butt cheeks with his hands and giving them a good squeeze, which only made Dean’s panting increase even more, Castiel gave Dean one quick lick of his tongue, teasing his hole.

Dean’s entire body tensed.

“Cas, I’m seconds away from begging.”

Knowing he wasn’t being fair, Castiel nevertheless continued licking Dean’s ass cheeks some more. He eased one hand to Dean’s groin and smiled when his fingers reached his cock.

“You’re still hard,” he said. Dean gasped at the touch. “Good.”

He gave him a small kiss on his ass, and then slid himself to the floor, nudging Dean to follow him.

On his knees and off the couch, Dean gave Castiel a long slippery kiss as he held him gently by his neck. Resting his forehead on Dean’s, Castiel asked him, “Are you sure?”

Dean nodded. He kissed him again quickly at the corner of his mouth and turned himself to face the couch.

He spread his legs slightly and bent over the couch. His stomach against the cushions, he lifted his butt as much as he could, while Castiel applied a generous layer of lube over his cock and some around Dean’s butthole.

Dean jolted at the touch.

After caressing his back, Castiel pulled himself closer and brushed the tip of his cock against his entrance.

He held Dean firmly by the hip with one hand, pushed in just a speck, and then paused.

Dean whimpered with his face buried in the couch cushions. “Cas, please,” he whined.

Castiel, holding his breath, slowly pushed his cock deeper into Dean’s tight hole. Dean stirred and gripped the cushions as he swore loudly.

Feeling his stomach tighten at the sensation, Castiel stopped moving again, unsure if it would end him right away or not.

Once he regained control of himself, he whispered Dean’s name, wishing to inquire of his condition.

“Cas, I swear,” he groaned.

And with Dean’s last comment, Castiel began thrusting slowly into him, as he listened to Dean letting out small cries of pleasure at nearly every thrust.

Dean, almost grunting, lowered his hand and started jerking himself off.

“Fuck, Dean,” panted Castiel.

Soon enough, Castiel shifted his hip slightly for another angle and quickened his pace. Dean yelled out a loud moan, and moved his hand back on the couch to keep himself more grounded, arching his back.

Not stopping or slowing down, Castiel said with a wavering voice, “Dean?”

“Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Castiel continued as long as he could, causing the sound of slapping skin to be heard over their panting. Eventually, feeling himself getting close to orgasm, he stopped moving and hastily pulled himself out, hoping it would help.

To which Dean protested. Loudly.

Slightly lowering himself to rest his head on Dean’s back a moment, Castiel attempted to even his breaths as he felt Dean trembling underneath him.

“Cas?” he whispered.

“I just—just need a—or I’ll—”

Dean, remaining exactly in his position, tugged on Castiel’s hands, causing him to lose his balance and drop on him. His face was buried on Dean’s hot skin. His torso glued to his back. Dean kissed his fingers. Then sucked on one of them. And started subtly moving his body underneath him.

And then pushed sharply his ass against Castiel’s twitching cock.

Castiel gasped. “Dean,” warned Castiel.

“I can’t help it. Too good.”

“One minute, okay?” Castiel whispered. He covered Dean’s shoulders with slow and soft kisses. “Just a minute.”

And Dean stopped. “Okay,” he said and waited as he enjoyed the touch of Castiel’s mouth on him.

Soon enough, once he judged he had sufficiently calmed down to continue, Castiel regained his initial position. But the moment he began entering him again, Dean slid his ass down Castiel’s cock. And continued the motion, twisting his hips.

Castiel felt his knees weakening at the sensation—and at the sight of Dean going up and down his cock—until Dean gave a hard push.

Castiel moaned, digging his fingernails into Dean’s hips, and Dean let out a short laugh.

Taking hold of his arm, Castiel pulled Dean upwards and started to rock into him. Holding him tightly by his torso, feeling his warm sweat, he teethed his neck. Dean attempted to keep up with him, but once Castiel quickened the pace, Dean clutched on to Castiel’s arm and let Castiel do whatever he wanted.

Dean’s breaths were dangerously uneven and Castiel could feel his whole body stir.

“Cas,” he choked.

Castiel slowed down and immediately reached for the base of Dean’s cock.

“Not yet,” said Castiel, sliding himself out. Panting, Dean let out a groan of frustration. Castiel loosened his hold on Dean and sat on his heels, only to have Dean twisting around to face him. He leaned towards him and kissed his jaw. “More.”

“I’m not done,” Castiel assured him. “I’m just giving you a break.”

“No breaks. More,” breathed Dean, licking his neck.

“Are you sure?” he said, amused.

Dean eased his hands on his ass and Castiel heard himself moaning.

“Lie down, Dean. On the rug.”

Without further ado, Dean dropped on his stomach. Though he appreciated the view again, this was not what Castiel had in mind. He grabbed a few pillows to add to their comfort. He lay next to him, and after having taken the moment to teasingly run the tip of his fingers on Dean’s back, making him tremble, he rolled Dean on his side against him. Castiel kissed the back of his shoulders, his hand slowly reached down to Dean’s hard cock, and began stroking him, while Dean rubbed his tight ass against Castiel’s erection.

“Cas, please.”

“I’ll have to let go of you,” he warned, with a lingering stroke.

“Please.”

Moving his hand away from Dean’s cock, he slid it in between his legs, hearing Dean let out a short whimpers at the touch. He slightly lifted Dean’s leg, and for a short moment, Dean held it in that position, letting Castiel gently stuck his cock back where it belonged. Back to holding Dean’s trembling leg, he then thrust into him, listening with glee to Dean’s moaning.

Shortly after, however, Dean awkwardly lifted himself on his elbow, while making sure to not disrupt Castiel’s task.

“Dean, what—“ and Castiel let out a deep, loud moan. Dean had managed to slip his hand in between them to reach Castiel’s balls.

“Don’t stop,” Dean told him.

Castiel, still holding his leg slightly up, continued rocking into him as Dean was massaging his balls, following his rhythm.

Castiel felt his grip tightening on Dean’s leg. His heart was racing. He knew he wouldn’t last long.

So, with conviction, he gave Dean a deep, slow thrust. And another. And another. Dean swore loudly and moaned from the back of his throat as he lay down again.

Letting go of his leg, Castiel nudged Dean’s torso slightly backwards, as if to position him almost on his back, but kept his hips still. Castiel readjusted himself for a better angle, so he could look at Dean’s face.

His cheeks were pink and his temples were sweaty. Dean licked his swollen lips, lowered his hand to his own cock and nodded at Castiel to continue.

With his eyes locked on him, Castiel held him by his hips, pressed himself against him, and repeated his slow thrusts. Then added more sharpness into it, which made Dean gasp. “Yes.”

“Like that?”

He nodded, biting down moans. Castiel gladly indulged him, and soon Dean wasn’t able to contain his cries of pleasure. He let go of his cock and wrapped his hand over Castiel’s arm, holding his breath.

“Dean. You’re fucking stunning,” he said unevenly, and instantly hastened his pace.

“Fuck, Cas.” He felt Dean’s grip tighten as he groaned.

“Are you close?”

No longer able to speak, Dean nodded as he breathed heavily.

“Me too.”

And with this statement, Castiel took a deep breath and rammed into him, not slowing down.

Dean gazed at him with intensity, just as he had done at the hotel, for as long he could until he shut his eyes tightly and screamed loudly.

The sound of him. The spectacle of him. The feeling of Dean’s ass tightening around his cock at his orgasm. Castiel carried on, but it didn’t take him long after that for him to be the one yelling, shouting Dean’s name, as his entire body spasmed.

Exhausted and both catching their breaths against each other, they remained inert for a little while. Eventually, Dean carefully stood up, looking a bit unsteady on his legs. He left for the bathroom and came back quickly with a wet, warm cloth. He gently kneeled down next to Castiel, who was still recovering, and, smiling, cleaned him up.

“Are you okay?”

Castiel nodded. “More than okay.” He petted Dean’s thigh. “You?”

Dean ran his fingers through his hair and just looked at him peacefully. Castiel took his hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Dean?”

“Yes.”

“I think we ruined the rug.”

Dean let out a short laugh. He stood up, helped Castiel to his feet and said, “We’ll just have to get another one.” Castiel nodded in agreement.

Still tired, Castiel sat down on the couch.

“Hey, no,” said Dean. “Don’t sit down. You won’t want to get up.”

“Hmmm. It appears you’re right,” he said, amused, reclining on his back.

“Cas, come on. Let’s go to bed,” he said, pulling on his arm.

“You wanted the couch. And I don’t think I can move.”

Dean sighed.

“I’ll share,” said Castiel, shifting himself to make room. “We will probably have to squeeze in.” He opened his arms, inviting Dean, smiling. “It’s a good thing too, because I’m cold.”

Dean shook his head, laughing. “All right. I’ll warm you up.”

And Dean grabbed a few blankets and lay next to him. Their legs intertwined, Dean rested his head against Castiel’s chest. He listened to Castiel’s heartbeat and felt comforted by Castiel wrapping his arms around him.

And Castiel happily fell asleep, brushing his thumb over Dean’s shoulder and looking at the full moon through the patio door.

Dean wasted no time and called Crowley the very next morning. With a bit of coaxing, Crowley accepted his terms to relay his information to them in exchange for a conversation with Castiel, and would wait for the rest of his demands until after the pressing drama was dealt with.

It turned out that Crowley’s inquiry concerning the Lazarus was not very long. A few of his questions were about the frequency and duration of the visits of specific guests. Nothing invasive, and yet, Castiel still remained skeptical as to why Crowley was asking about it. He also questioned Castiel about some of his former colleagues’ character—Naomi in particular.

“May I ask why you want to know this?”

“I simply have an inquisitive mind, that’s all.”

“Right.”

“It is good information to have up my sleeve given what is happening at the Lazarus right now.”

Castiel frowned. “What—what do you mean?”

Crowley smirked, sipping on his tea.

“The Winchester Ranch is not the only place where things are brewing.”

Castiel stared at him.

“You didn’t know?”

He shook his head.

“Look at it this way,” said Crowley, “even if you had stayed, it seems that drama was inevitable and you would have suffered the same—well, a similar—fate.”

After his questions, Crowley directed himself to the door, but stopped with his hand on the door handle. “I meant what I said yesterday. All of this happened because of you. It was like dumping a fox in a house hen. You might not like it, but it might be a skill worth exploring.”

Castiel snorted. “You mean simply put me—a Novak—somewhere and everyone shady will panic?”

“Not exactly a whistleblower, but something along the lines.”

“And that’s useful how?”

“Well it was useful to Dean.” Castiel pursed his lips, disliking Crowley’s insinuation. Crowley then added, “If they are going to be idiots about it and hate you anyway, why not use it for a good use?”

“I don’t think that’s a thing.”

“You’d be surprised what people would pay to rattle others that mean them dishonor.”

Castiel swallowed. “I meant, I don’t think that’s a thing I’d be interested in.”

Crowley held his stare, smiling, and said, “All right, then. But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”

True to his word, Crowley gave them all the intel he had acquired. Castiel helped Dean go through the documents, assessing the damage.

And it was heavy. And long.

But not as terrible as they had feared.

And after a proper study of the information and a clear idea on how to approach everyone, Dean got to work. He insisted on Castiel staying clear of this, however, so as to not give anybody else more ammunition against him.

It turned out that Castiel had been right about something: people will chose money over jail. And once the biggest troublemakers were accounted for, subtly approached by Dean, the rest practically begged for the same deal.

Funnily enough, that had not been Dean’s initial plan of attack. At first, he had hoped to wait until the deadline was behind them before meeting people. Tackling this step too early had worried him. It would therefore inform their opponents of their plan, thus losing the element of surprise and giving them a chance to retaliate with a last minute attempt against them before the deadline.

But when Dean was prompted by a surprise—and hostile—visit by Mr. Adler a few days after Crowley shared his dossiers, Dean decided that he was done with all this nonsense.

It had not been easy. It had taken a lot of convincing, and Dean had even thought at some point he would have to give certain files to Jody (or even higher up), but quite miraculously, within a week after Crowley’s offer, it seemed that the matter had been settled.

So-to-speak. After all, nothing could be official until after the deadline.

But it seemed that everyone was on board, and Castiel and Dean could discern the light at the end of the tunnel.

So close to the victory they could almost taste it, they grew more anxious as they neared the deadline. Which was why they opted to hit the pause button on their relationship.

A much-needed discussion about their future was to be had between the two.

About the definition of what they were. Of what they hoped to be. Of what to do after.

But with the stress of the deadline, and everything coming along with it, Castiel and Dean decided to leave everything about their relationship on the back burner until that part was behind them. They did not want to have distractions or additional anxiety over it.

They wished to have this conversation clear minded and no longer fearing major setbacks looming over them.

They also didn’t want to get ahead of themselves and jinx it.

So they took it easy and agreed to simply enjoy their time together, while keeping their distance.

Somewhat.

They still spent every moment they could together. Morning, lunch and nights. In the last week before the deadline, they even went on midnight strolls nearly every night. On their respective horses, but still.

And while they were intimate, they also didn’t force the issue about sex. Almost like a couple undertaking a short period of abstinence before the wedding.

This choice hadn’t been voiced by either of them specifically, but for the same reason why they avoided conversations about their marital status or plans for the summer, knowing how the other one felt, they left it at that for the moment.

That being said, Castiel had concerns.

Every time he was spending time with Dean, no matter what they were doing, he was hit by brief moments of panic where he wondered if this would be the last time. This was not what he wanted to think of when he found himself lying next to Dean in bed. When he was laughing with him during dinner. Or when he was holding his hand as they drank their morning coffees. He wanted to be looking forward to their time together, not reminiscing on it.

And while Castiel was evidently planning on staying, he knew he would soon have to deal with other details of his life. Like his apartment. And his career.

But after losing his job, leaving his town, and of course, being with Dean, the last six months had put him in a position where he could start a new life from the ground up. He had the opportunity to truly reflect on the matter like he never had before. Which he was excited to do with Dean by his side.

Evidently, even if things were looking up, _Castiel _wasn’t without limitations. Unlike Dean, however.

And that fact was Castiel’s biggest concern: that Dean would one day perhaps grow tired of it. Dean was rather secluded at the ranch for the moment, but Castiel wondered (and even hoped for Dean’s sake) that it wouldn’t always be the case, and when that moment arrived, he feared Dean would only then perceive the gravity of Castiel’s situation.

Similar to Dean’s worry about Castiel’s potential departure, Castiel, on his side feared that Dean was contenting himself by ignoring the full picture. Or even, because there was no one else. For now.

Castiel knew he was being ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it. He was plagued by these thoughts and he wanted nothing more than to sit down and have a proper talk with Dean about it. If he was worried about such things, chances were that Dean was too, but until the dreadful deadline finally came to pass, he would try his best to focus on his time with Dean and to remain positive.

On the very last day before the six months threshold, there was a distinctive vibe of excitement all around the ranch. Aaron had planned a feast to celebrate the occasion. Donna was even more joyful, if that was possible. Ash had hummed melodies the whole morning.

And Castiel couldn’t stop smiling.

It didn’t matter that he had spilled tea all over his lap. It didn’t matter that he was a bit tired from having slept restlessly most of the night due to anxiety. Or that the weather was a weird—and annoying—mixture of rain and snow.

One last day of them holding their breaths and Castiel and Dean could finally be free of this weight.

During lunch, Castiel met Dean in his office, where they had gained the habit of sharing lunch together over the last week or so.

They mostly just laughed as they ate and watched funny online videos.

But they also talked. They circled on topics about the ranch, but it happened once or twice where they accidentally dwelled on subjects involving the summer. Or Castiel’s birthday. Or a next potential destination they could visit. It would never be for very long and they would quickly change the subject.

But it happened.

On that particular day, however, Castiel was informing Dean about the charming family of five who had arrived at the ranch that morning and how Castiel had the pleasure to welcome them personally. And just as when Castiel was about to mention the children’s fascination about cowboy boots, Dean’s phone buzzed.

Castiel stopped speaking.

“Don’t worry,” said Dean, waving his hand. “They’ll call back.”

Castiel tilted his head and smirked at him. “Dean.”

Dean sighed, wiped his hands and said, “You’re not allowed to call me a workaholic anymore.”

Castiel smiled as he took a sip of his green tea.

“Hello, Dean speaking,” said Dean.

“Cheers, Mr. Winchester. Mr. Ketch, here, calling on behalf of Dr. Hess,” said a voice on the speakerphone.

“Mr. Ketch. Hello. What can I do for you?”

“Dr. Hess wishes to meet with you tomorrow to finalize your agreement. We know you will most likely be busy in the coming weeks as your imposed stagnant state will finally be behind you. We understand you will have a lot to get to and quickly, and Dr. Hess simply doesn’t want to delay the matter any longer than need be.”

Dean’s smile widened. “Of course. That’s terrific. What time tomorrow?”

“Ten in the morning. At the ranch.”

“Works for me.”

“Perfect. It’s settled then.”

“All right. Thank you.”

“Likewise.”

But as Dean was about to hang up, Ketch seemed to have a little more to say, “Oh, and one last thing before I forget.”

“What’s that?”

“Mr. Davies wanted me to let you know that he heard back from an associate in Milan, who would very much like to speak with your Mr. Novak about a position. He thinks he would be very happy there and swears the company is delightful.”

Dean shot a glance at Castiel, who looked at him fondly and shook his head with a smile on his face.

Dean, relieved, tried to hold down his grin, “Um, that’s so kind of you. Of him. Please, be sure to thank Mr. Davies for his time. I really appreciate his help. But that won’t be necessary anymore.”  
“Is that so? I—knew you had inquired on the matter and received warm replies from a few places, but I wasn’t aware Mr. Novak had already agreed to one of them.”

There was a faint hint of confusion over Dean’s face, and after a short hesitation, he said, “He—he didn’t. Ca—Mr. Novak wishes to stay here with us.”

“I see.” Ketch cleared his throat. “And if it’s not too bold of me to ask, what about your _relationship _status?”

Dean flinched at the question. “What do you mean?”

“Are you planning on remaining married?”

Dean swallowed. “We—we haven’t discussed this yet. Why?”

“But it is a strong possibility,” said Ketch, as-a-matter-of-factly. “Given that he is staying.”

“Yes. Why?”

There was a pregnant pause and then Ketch said, “Please, hold.”

Holding his breath, Dean looked at Castiel with worried eyes.

After a few agonizing minutes, Ketch returned on the line.

“Mr. Winchester, I’m sorry to inform you that Dr. Hess will no longer be meeting you tomorrow. She has decided to take another direction and wishes you all the luck you may need in the future.”

“Wait, what? Hold on—I—why?”

Silence.

“Ketch—Mr. Ketch, why? Why did she change her mind?”

A long sigh was heard, and then he said, “Because it was understood that your union with Mr. Novak was nothing more than a technicality for you to get the ranch. This was supported when you had reached out to other places inquiring about the chance of his future employment. But now that it is clear Mr. Novak will not only stay involved with the ranch _and _with you, it seems Dr. Hess feels differently about investing in your establishment.”

Castiel shut his eyes, feeling his stomach drop.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m sorry. I—it is her decision.”

“But—”

“Good day, Mr. Winchester.”

Dean assured Castiel that he would fix this and that it didn’t change anything.

And even though Castiel wholeheartedly believed Dean had meant every word, he could not deny that horrible pit in his stomach the moment Mr. Ketch had hung up.

He left Dean’s office shortly afterwards to let him go back to work, telling himself the lunch hour was over anyway and that he should do so as well.

But Castiel did not return to the greenhouse.

He did not stop at the front desk to see if Garth needed support.

Nor did he try to find Donna, knowing full well that she would always welcome his help.

The snow and rain had stopped, the weather was mild, and the sun was peeking through the clouds. And yet, everything seemed grim. The snow was sticky and wet, and Castiel felt chills along his spine. Numb of everything, he walked aimlessly and somehow found himself at the stables.

“Hey, Cas,” said Max. “Here to treat Elliot Ness? You’re here earlier than usual. He’s still out.”

“Right.”

Max froze and briefly squinted at him.

“Are you okay?”

Castiel nodded. He then looked around and said, “Do you need help? I mean—of course, you need help. I—I’ll just help you guys clean up the stalls, if you want.”

Max frowned. “Um, I’d appreciate the help, of course, but I think—are you sure you’re okay? You look…out of it.”

Castiel diverted his eyes.

At Castiel’s silence, Max then added, “How about you go visit the enclosures. Elliot Ness is in the third one this afternoon. Near the indoor arena? It might help. You wanted to see him, right?” Castiel nodded. “Okay. Do that and if you still feel like helping us after, you’re welcome to come back,” he said amiably.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

And Castiel spent the rest of the day sitting on the fence, looking at the horses. Elliot Ness eventually came trotting close to him and Castiel felt guilty he hadn’t brought any apples for him.

But it seemed that Elliot Ness didn’t resent him for that fact and gladly let Castiel pet his forehead, nonetheless.

He only realized how late it was when Alicia and Tasha showed up at the fences to bring back the horses to the stables. He helped them with their task, and took a good look at Elliot Ness and Dave Mather. Feeling a lump growing in his throat, he refused to say goodbye, while knowing the possibility he might have to do so much earlier than he wished.

When he arrived at the house, Dean still wasn’t home. In dire need of a distraction, he started cooking dinner.

He made lasagna and cookies, nothing too complicated, and waited for Dean to arrive home.

But he did not.

Castiel waited patiently on the couch, reading, failing to not check the time every five minutes.

He nearly called Dean a few times, or even considered grabbing his coat and head towards the ranch to find him, but he didn’t want to interrupt Dean if he was busy.

Busy trying to fix their problem.

Which Castiel was the source of.

He worried for a short while that Dean might have simply gone MIA again, but he put that idea out of his head quickly and refused to think the worst.

Finally, well passed nine o’clock, he heard footsteps on the porch. He eagerly put his book down and stood up, facing the door.

Dean stepped in and froze the moment he noticed Castiel was waiting for him.

Dean’s expression was not encouraging, thought Castiel. Ignoring the anxiety spreading all over his chest, he met Dean in the kitchen area.

“You made dinner,” said Dean in a grievous voice.

“I—I needed to do something.”

Dean swallowed.

“Are you hungry?” asked Castiel.

Dean lowered his eyes and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I should have called. You could have eaten, I just…lost track of time.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not hungry either. I told you, I just needed to do something.”

Dean glimpsed at him with caution. His bottom lip was trembling.

“Dean, I—please, can you tell me what happened?”

Clearly attempting to keep his face as straight as possible, he remained silent.

“Dean?”

“I—I started calling other investors I was already eyeing. I hadn’t called before, because—but they,” he cleared his throat, “after asking me similar questions, they refu—passed as well.”

Castiel could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He was frozen on his spot.

“So I called the investors we do have—the ones we are planning on keeping. I asked if they’d be willing to increase their funds, but—they—I—”

“They refused.”

Dean shut his eyes as tears were falling down his face. “They didn’t just refuse.” He paused, trying to keep his breathing even. And failing at it. “They—said that if—if—”

And even though Dean never finished his sentence, Castiel didn’t need to hear it. He knew what Dean had meant to say.

That like Hess, and everyone else, they wanted Castiel away from the ranch and from Dean.

“Even if—if I sell my other businesses. And take a loan…”

“You have to buy out the ones you _need _to get rid off. Like now,” said Castiel, understanding where Dean was going. “Without—is that going to be enough?”

And one look at Dean and he knew the answer was no.

Having an out of body experience and not knowing what else to say, Castiel simply walked to the couch and sat down.

They remained silent during long periods of time. They also conversed vividly, where it sounded hopeful at times, and then back to desolate. But after a long night of deliberation, no matter what, it seemed that the verdict remained the same.

Castiel was now sitting at the edge of the armchair, with his arms crossed over his chest, while Dean was standing next to the couch.

They both had come to the same conclusion and neither of them wanted to voice it.

Sick in his stomach and drained by the whole affair, Castiel finally said what needed to be said.

“The six months deadline has now officially passed. I am no longer required to stay.” His eyes were glued to the ground and he could not believe he was actually saying these words out loud. “And if I leave, it seems that it would be most beneficial for the ranch. Which was the purpose of our agreement. To help you with the ranch.”

“Cas,” whimpered Dean.

“But I want to stay,” he added in an imploring voice. “So I’m only leaving if you tell me to do so.” He lifted his eyes. “But you have to be the one to say it,” he whispered.

Dean shook his head, fearing the rest.

“You have to tell me to leave. I’m not trying to be cruel, Dean. I _want _to stay. And I will if that’s what you want. But I came here because you asked me to. That was my decision. This one is yours.”

“Cas, please.”

“If you want me to leave, you have to tell me.”

And Castiel, never deflecting his eyes from Dean, waited with anguish for his answer.

Dean conjured up whatever energy he had left in him and said the five words Castiel would have never believed he would have told him.

“I want you to leave.”

Castiel stopped breathing and immediately looked away, trying his best to hold down his tears, and feeling as if his chest had been ripped open.

“All right, then,” he heard himself say and walked away down the hallway.

He packed his things quickly in a complete daze. He dragged his feet to the front door, put on his coat and opened the door. After a long, pleading look at Dean, who had remained very still in his spot, and had not uttered one word, Castiel swallowed hard, stepped outside, and shut the door behind him.

And he stayed on the porch for long agonizing minutes, waiting for Dean to open the door, rushing to him. To stop him. To tell him that he had changed his mind. To absolutely refuse to let him leave.

But when it was clear that this would not happen, Castiel buried down the biggest sob of his life in his throat, one that made his chest heavy, his stomach clench, and made him think he would never be able to say one word again, and walked down the steps with his suitcase in hand.

And Dean, unbeknownst to Castiel, had slowly let himself fall to the floor, with his arms wrapped around his chest, deeply sobbing, the moment Castiel had shut the door behind him.


	14. Home

Standing in his doorway, Castiel felt exhausted. Dirty. Inhuman.

His place was exactly how he had left it. The mail Balthazar had picked up waited on the counter for him and the rest had been thrown into the recycling bin.

The notion that soon he would find himself in this very spot had been Castiel’s only small comfort on his way back.

To reach his safe place.

To be granted peace and quiet.

To replenish his soul.

But he wasn’t hit with that familiar feeling of relief and serenity. The one he had been craving during his whole journey back.

It was as if something was off.

Like something was missing.

Like _someone _was missing.

He wondered if his apartment had always been this sad. And he never felt more alone than he had in that moment. Standing by the door.

Feeling his throat tightening, he swallowed hard, shut the door, dropped everything to the ground and decided to draw himself a bath.

To wash off the horrible day.

The last six months.

His entire experience.

While the tub was slowly filling up, he stripped off his clothes and sat in it.

His arms wrapped around his legs. His toes under the warm running water. His eyes shut.

He eased his mind on focusing to the sound of the water.

Trying to persuade himself that he was okay as he had managed to not crumble into pieces yet.

He took a deep breath, opened his eyes and extended his arm to adjust the water temperature with his left hand.

And his heart dropped.

When he noticed his wedding ring.

And his whole body shook.

Tears rolled down his face.

Breathing was painful.

And he let out a wail. So big, so deep, no sound came out of it.

Over the next few days, his state had not improved.

He locked himself in his home. Inside his mind.

Everything he touched. Everything he looked at. Everything reminded him of Dean.

And the thought that he couldn’t speak to him anymore was excruciating.

With the exception of the few stale pieces of cereal from a box he had found hidden in the cupboard, some spoonfuls of honey he sucked on, and the occasional glass of water, he consumed nothing else.

He knew he needed food in his system and not eating was only aggravating his state, but he didn’t care.

And though alcohol would certainly have its upside, he wasn’t even tempted by this option.

All he wanted was to sleep. Endless sleep.

He was exhausted.

Tired of feeling his heart sink every time he woke up in his bed and didn’t find Dean next to him. Of not hearing his soft snores. Of not feeling his warmth.

Castiel’s quick solution was to sleep on his couch. Buried under heavy blankets. Readying himself for hibernation from the outside world.

Flashes of their time together crept into his dreams. Leaving him even more emotionally drained at his awakening.

The muscles of his face ached after weeping. The skin of his cheeks and around his eyes stung after so many tears.

He sat on the couch and did nothing but stare into space. He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling in the dark.

He thought of reading, wishing it could help, but he never went further than simply staring at the covers.

He was disconcerted with himself to be waiting for the phone call that would never ring.

In weak and brief moments, he nearly called him. But after contemplating the idea for half a second, he hastily put the phone away every time, convinced it wouldn’t do anything. Except perhaps deepen his heartache.

And this was already a heartache like he had never experienced before.

Castiel was tired and desperately wished to be free of this misery.

Waking up was painful. Waking up was the worst.

He would force himself to shower. Just enough to wash the hurt away, put on something else, and then go back to sleep, not caring about the day or the time.

With no desire to speak to anyone and determined to sulk in his apartment, he would throw another blanket over himself to muffle the sound of the noisy city.

Eventually, however, he was granted the visit of a friend. And the visitor in question had a key.

After the door unlocked, there was some commotion at the entrance, as if someone had tripped over something, which was followed by loud swearing.

“Bloody hell!” There was a long pause, where Castiel heard the door shut, and then his visitor said, “Cassie, hello? Are you here?”

In a desperate and foolish attempt to be unnoticed by Balthazar, Castiel remained hidden under his blankets and did not move a muscle.

But, evidently, it didn’t work. Quick steps advanced towards him.

“Cas, hey. Cas? Wake up.”

A hand gently shook him on his shoulder.

“Cas. I know you’re there.” He felt a finger poke him on his side.

Castiel didn’t move.

“I need to know you’re still bloody breathing. Come on.” Balthazar shook him again.

Castiel sighed and pushed the blankets off.

“I’m alive,” he said, without looking at him. “Can you go now?” And he hurriedly covered himself again.

“Not yet, no.” Balthazar yanked the blankets off of him and sat next to him.

Castiel groaned. “Please, leave me alone.”

“Cas, why didn’t you tell me you were back? When did you arrive? I tried to reach you a few times last week, but you weren’t answering. I know the deadline just passed, but you never told me what the plan was after that.”

Castiel’s elaborate reply was to turn his back to him.

“What happened?”

“Go away.”

“When did you get here?”

Silence.

“Have you been here since the deadline?”

Silence.

There was a pause and Balthazar, in a cautious tone, said, “When’s the last time you’ve eaten? Or gone out of this apartment?”

Silence.

“Cas, answer.” Balthazar pulled on his shoulder to look at his face.

“Oh my god, stop. Please stop.”

“Well, you aren’t bloody giving me anything. What am I supposed to do?”

“I just really want to be left alone.”

“Sorry mate, but seeing the state you’re in, no can do. Now, come on,” he slapped his leg as he stood up from the couch. “I’m hitting pause on your…whatever this is. Go take a quick shower, put on some clean clothes and we’ll go get you some food. My treat.”

“No.”

“No what? Food? Shower? Clothes?”

“Everything.”

“God, you’re pigheaded. Do as I say, otherwise we stay here where I’m just going to torture you with endless questions.”

Irritated, Castiel let out a grunt of exasperation and sat on his couch. He scowled at Balthazar for a few seconds, and after a loud sigh, he went to his bathroom.

“I’ll take that as progress.”

Not even half an hour later, Castiel, who was freshly cleaned, sat with Balthazar at a diner.

The waitress gave them the menus, which Castiel didn’t even bother looking at, and Balthazar ordered two coffees.

“You need food and fast. You look like you’re about to faint. You need sustenance.”

Castiel pushed the menu away. “I’m not hungry.”

Balthazar sighed. “I’m trying to help you. At least meet me half way.”

When the waitress came back with their coffees, Balthazar ordered a club sandwich, and when Castiel, being obstinate, had remained silent, he took the liberty of ordering a vegetable soup for his friend.

“All right. Out with it. What happened?” he asked after the waitress had left with their orders.<strike></strike>

Castiel held his tongue. He knew Balthazar wouldn’t leave without some answers, but he simply couldn’t find the words to express anything. Just thinking about it was difficult. He didn’t want to start crying or losing his shit in the middle of a diner. He wanted to conserve the small amount of dignity that he had left and ugly crying wasn’t going to help him do that.

“Cas? Christ, tell me something. Anything.”

So, he did the only thing he could think of. He changed the subject to a lesser, but still depressing topic.

“How’s everything at the hotel?” he asked.

Balthazar froze. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t work there, anymore.”

Castiel flinched. “What? How come?”

“I quit.”

“Since when?”

Balthazar took a deep breath. “Just under two months now.”

“I—why?”

“The long story short is that the place…changed. The whole dynamic. And that was well before the ordeal surrounding you and De—anyway,” he said, clearing his throat. “Basically, the place went to the dogs. New insufferable people came in, and I was still very much bitter about what they did to you, so I decided that the lot of them could go screw themselves and I left. From what I have heard, they are having a mini-rebellion on their hands. Karma is a bitch.”

Having no idea what to do with this information, Castiel simply asked him, “Where do you work now?”

“Quiet bar, not even three blocks from where I live. The tips are not how it used to be, but it’s better than nothing. For now.”

Castile nodded.

“Cassie, what happened?”

Castiel crossed his arms on his chest and leaned into his seat.

“What happened?”

“I did what I was supposed to do,” he blurted out. “I helped him secure the fate of his ranch. And like it was planned, I came back. That’s what happened.”

Even though Castiel was resolute to focus his attention on his cup of coffee, he could feel Balthazar’s stare on him.

“If that’s the case,” his friend finally added, “then care to explain the existential crisis you’re suffering through right now?”

Castiel felt his chest tighten. His eyes prickled. But he kept quiet and held a straight facial expression.

Balthazar sighed deeply and leaned on his elbows. “I haven’t heard much from you over the past month,” he said. “But whenever you sent me texts, there was nothing troubling. So it seemed, anyway. The one thing I noticed, however, was that you stopped mentioning your dreams.”

Castiel swallowed.

“Now, maybe you just decided to keep them to yourself, but I couldn’t help but think—and hope—that it was because they were no longer a concern. As in, because you had dealt with the situation.”

Castiel kept still as if he was a statue.

“My first guess was that you finally listened to me and allowed yourself a break by shagging the damn bloke.”

Castiel clenched his jaw.

“But if that would be the case, I really don’t see why you’d be…” He took a deep breath and leaned back in his seat, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Cas, it was more than that, wasn’t it? You didn’t just sleep with him. You fell for him.”

Castiel shut his eyes, feeling the pit in his stomach growing.

“And maybe you didn’t want to leave?”

Castiel bit hard on the inside of his cheek.

“Cas?”

“What do you want me to tell you?” he croaked. “That’s what happened. Okay? I did what you said. Not because you told me to, but… I fucking let myself believe that I could— that—for once someone was…but it doesn’t matter now. Because in the end, he told me—because that’s that."

“What? He told you what?”

“Nothing. It’s complicated, but whatever. I can’t. It—and now I’m here. And I can’t—I—I’m—”

“You what?”

Castiel swallowed hard and lowered his eyes.

“Castiel? You what?” he repeated.

“I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me,” he said in a wavering voice. “Or what’s happening to me. Or what I’m supposed to do. I don’t understand anything. This—this isn’t me. I’m not like this. I don’t—I don’t get attached. Not like that. I mean, I do—but this—this feeling of longing. Desperation. Emptiness. This isn’t me. I’m not like this. I don’t do this. I hate myself for feeling it. I feel pathetic. But I—I can’t stop thinking about—fuck, I just want it to stop. I just want it all to go away.”

He took a deep breath, holding down his tears.

“Cas? What the bleeding hell are you doing here, then? Why didn’t you stay?”

“I couldn’t,” he said, finally meeting his friend’s eyes. “If I stayed, everything we tried to do for the ranch, the very purpose of the marriage and—it would have been for nothing.” He took a moment to quickly explain the situation to Balthazar. He told him of the investors, the scheming, Michael, Hess—everything—and then said, trying to sound convincing, “It’s better that way.”

Balthazar, who was staring at him blankly, thought otherwise and wasn’t shy to let him know of that fact.

“If you took one look at yourself in a mirror, you wouldn’t bloody think that,” he argued. With Castiel apparently determined to remain silent, he continued speaking. “Look mate, you have two choices. You go back and fix things with him—”

“I can’t do that.”

“Or,” added Balthazar, after groaning, “you pull yourself up and you move forward here.”

“Don’t have much else here.”

“Oi!” he barked, gesturing himself. “Thanks.”

“I—you know what I mean. I didn’t mean you. I meant a job and…everything else.”

“Then you get yourself a new one. Not the way you had planned, evidently, but here we are.”

All the positive views of the future Castiel had envisaged on his last days at the ranch, when he was embracing the unknown, all of it had disappeared with Dean.

And that was his main problem.

Despite the fact that he had money, which he could live on for a while (a small security blanket he never had before) and even job offers (despite that he had declined, two places had generously expressed that he let them know if he changed his mind in the future), the only thing Castiel could think of was Dean.

Plans and goals seemed trivial. Bothersome. Nothing was worthy of excitement if Dean wasn’t going to be part of it.

And this was deeply troubling, especially when he knew there was no hope of that changing any time soon.

Castiel had no idea what his face must have looked like as he was reflecting on the matter, with his thoughts circling back to Dean, but based on Balthazar’s expression, it was clear he needed to get a grip and fast.

“Fuck, Cas. What did he do to you?”

“I know. I have to snap out of it, but—I can’t. It’s gonna take a while.”

“So what I am to understand is that we must kickstart the healing process. We should hit a strip club right after our meal. Had I known, I would have dragged you there right away.”

Castiel made a face.

“Come on!” said Balthazar. “What then? A bar? Hunt for a shag? No offence, but I think it would do you good. Hell, I’d offer, but I fear you wouldn’t have enough of me and that might make it weird.”

And Castiel, not able to help himself, snorted in his coffee.

“Was that a genuine laugh? I’m alerting the media. My job here is done!”

“Shut up.”

“Seriously, though, you have to tell me.”

“Um, I appreciate the offer, but pass.”

“Not that, you magnificent blue eyed bastard. I meant details. About Dean.”

Castiel shot him a harsh look.

“Too soon?

“What gave you that impression?” he snarled at him.

“Hmmm. Can I guess?”

“No.”

“Was it like in your dreams?”

“I’m never speaking to you again.”

The next few weeks had been better.

Not splendid.

Not great.

Not even good.

But better.

Castiel made a point of getting out and walking in the mornings. He went to a bistro down the street and ordered breakfast to go. Which was a completely ridiculous thing to do for the price alone.

But he didn’t care.

He was not in a cooking mood, and it was this or he wouldn’t eat at all.

To hell with the consequences. Why did it matter anyway?

It was the only thing that made him feel partially human. And in terms of coping mechanisms, he figured this one seemed healthy enough, so he indulged himself in it.

He was not in top shape. Desperation and heaviness of the heart still hit him out of the blue every day. On multiple occasions.

But he felt, for the lack of a better word, better.

Balthazar made a point of checking up on him on a daily basis, and often insisted on Castiel meeting him so he would have fresh air, instead of keeping himself cooped up in his apartment.

On the good days, he would avidly meet Balthazar. But on the somber ones, Balthazar would stop by, even if for only five minutes, to bring him coffee, take out, or simply just to talk.

“I know you’re checking up on me. Thank you, but I swear I’m fine,” said Castiel on one late evening, dropping the Chinese food containers on his counter.

“I’m not overly convinced yet,” replied Balthazar in a serious tone. After glancing around the place, he said, “Where’s your stuff? Your place almost looks empty. Even more so than usual.”

“Sold some of it. Gave some of it away.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t like it anymore,” he said quickly.

Balthazar stared at him.

“What?” asked Castiel.

“Should I be worried?”

“No. Why?”

“This is weird, Cassie.”

“I’m fine. Well, no. But this is…don’t worry. I just…needed a change. That’s all.”

Balthazar was still observing him attentively. “Okay. You’d tell me if something’s wrong, right?”

“Oh my God,” said Castiel. “You’re the one who’s starting to freak me out, now. I swear I’m fine.”

After watching him a few seconds, Balthazar nodded. “But until I’m positive you’re back to your old self, you’re just going to have to deal with me and stuff your face with delicious food. Now. Where’s the stir fry?”

Nearly a month had passed since his return, and on one Thursday, as he was coming back from his morning walk, carrying his warm breakfast, Castiel stopped dead in the hallway when he saw a package was waiting for him by his door.

His heart was beating fast and his throat was dry. He slowly walked towards it, as if he was worried it would suddenly burst into flame or something ridiculous of the sort.

Without touching it, he opened his door, dropped his food on the counter and went back to his doorway to observe the box still waiting for him on the floor.

Knowing he was being absurd, he took a deep breath, brought the box inside and put it carefully on the coffee table. He leisurely poured himself a glass of water in the kitchen, fully aware that he was stalling.

After drinking his water, he poured himself another one and brought it along with him to the living room. He sat down on the couch and stared at the box.

The box was plain. Medium size.

It was addressed to him with no return address.

But it possessed Montana stamps.

And he recognized the handwriting.

Castiel swallowed hard. He didn’t want to know what was in the box. Most likely certain items Castiel had forgotten when he had left hastily. Books. Sweaters. Ties. Whatever it was, he was convinced it would deepen his pain.

Slowly, he tore the tape and opened the box.

He found another box inside it with a note attached to it.

His heart stopped.

_It was a gift. You keep those._

He recognized the box. He hadn’t even needed to read the note. He knew what it was.

Fighting back his tears, he opened the box and found the boots Dean had given him on his arrival.

He had regretted forgetting them on his departure, but since then he had told himself that perhaps it had been for the best. That way he wouldn’t have to look at them all the time. His mind was already a painful reminder.

But they had found their way back to him.

He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

He wasn’t sure what to think about Dean sending them back to him either.

Perhaps he really wanted Castiel to have it as a souvenir. Perhaps Dean couldn’t look at them without thinking of him. Or perhaps, there wasn’t anything much attached to it and Dean had just meant what he had said. They had been a gift, no more than that.

Not knowing what to do with them, Castiel wanted to put them away and out of his sight. He stowed them back into the shoebox, but paused when he noticed something odd. There was something lodged inside the left boot.

A piece of paper.

A letter.

Dearest Grandson. My Dean.

If you’re reading this, it means that I am no longer with you and your brother. I am so sorry that I had to leave you.

Taking care of you, watching you both grow up and becoming men was my privilege. My greatest honor. My only regrets were that your grandmother never got to witness it, and while your parents were granted this opportunity, it was far too briefly than they deserved. Than you deserved.

I did my best to take care of you both and I am eternally grateful that you were both in my life. You have made it worth living it.

By now, you must know of my peculiar bequest to you in my will. I know you must be incredibly confused, even perhaps furious with me.

I am honestly doing this thinking of your absolute best. With your trust fund and other businesses, you (and Sam) will be missing nothing if you make smart choices, and I know you both will. I know you will be all right. Don’t doubt yourself, Dean. You are much cleverer than you give yourself credit for.

Know that it was always my intention to leave you everything. It still is. I wish you to continue working at the ranch, owning the business and my house (if you want to live there permanently, as it has always been yours as well), with the same care and devotion you have warmly conveyed for so long.

But it recently dawned on me that I should perhaps rethink this option.

You love working on the ranch—that much has always been obvious. But I wondered at times, feared even, that you stayed to help me with the ranch out of a feeling of obligation. Or, possibly worse, fear of the unknown.

I know the death of your parents left a hole in you so deep that leaving the ranch at all became problematic for you.

I should have insisted that you took a break more often. I should have insisted that you try something else. I should have insisted that you travelled. I should have done a lot of things. I know you love the ranch, but you can still love it even if you’re not physically there.

As I am writing this letter, I will try my best to remedy this as soon as I can. But in case I didn’t succeed as well as I hoped, or for whatever reason I may have failed, Dean, don’t be afraid to go for the best scenario, even if it doesn’t seem likely. You don’t owe me anything. You do not owe anyone anything.

You can go and do whatever you want. If it’s working on the ranch, then do that. But you need to understand that it doesn’t have to be that, and that staying at the ranch should not, under any circumstances, keep you away from other opportunities.

Whatever they might be.

I want you to have everything in life. Even things that you resigned yourself to see as improbable, due to their complexity or, perhaps, because you think you don’t deserve them. And I think you are guilty of the latter.

Which troubles me immensely.

And this is why I included Castiel Novak in my will.

I cannot bring back your parents. Nor can I offer additional guidance beyond this letter. But I can try to put someone back on your path, which I fear I should have done much earlier than this.

I cannot control what will happen. I cannot control if he’ll agree. I cannot control what will come of it.

But for once, please, allow yourself to look at what you want.

He possesses skills and smarts that could be beneficial to the business. But more importantly, he has a big heart and a genuine spirit. To have thrived this far after everything, I am in awe of his character. And although I feel rather guilty to steal him away—if only, momentarily—from his life, it remains to be his decision to reside at the ranch, just like yours to invite him, and there is no right or wrong answer.

Take note, however, that I have written him a letter, much like this one, to notify him. So, I hope you take the time to have at least one discussion with him, no matter what.

I leave you free to approach him however you desire, of course.

But please, do so.

You’ve never voiced it, but I know this boy meant a lot to you. I know you loved him. You always have. I apologize for the scheme, but with my passing, I don’t want you to think that people simply leave you.

You need to know that being apart doesn’t necessarily mean indefinitely.

Some can still be present and part of your life. And while the choice is often made for you, as you know fair well, sometimes you can be lucky enough to change that. And it could be as simple as asking for it. But my dear boy, you just have to try.

I know the hardest thing to do is to let the people we love go for their own well-being, as well as for our own. But do not think that their decision—or circumstances forcing them—to stay away automatically implies their lack of love for you.

It is impossible to not love your big heart. And I deeply wish you’d allow yourself to use it to its fullest. And without restraint.

I love you,

Granddad.

Castiel had no idea how long he must have stared at the letter.

No idea how long he stayed on his couch without moving.

But slowly, as he came back to himself, all he knew was that he couldn’t stay there anymore. He wanted to tear the letter apart. To throw away the boots. He wanted to scream. To cry.

This was too much to process.

He was confused as to why Dean would send him this letter. What was he supposed to do with this? It only conveyed that Henry knew of Dean’s feelings. And even if that was the case, it didn’t change the fact that Dean had refused to let him stay. So it seemed like Henry didn’t know anything after all.

He had no idea what he was experiencing in that instant, but whatever it was, he had never felt it before.

He was calm and ready to explode all at once. He couldn’t move. Just fixed in time, right there. And yet, he felt the urge to tear down a brick wall with his bare hands.

Not sure of what he should do or what was happening to him, he simply stood up, let go of the letter, didn’t touch the boots and left his apartment. After locking the door, he left the building and went down the street.

He believed he had finally reached the point where a night of heavy drinking was the only remedy against his internal turmoil.

To add on to Castiel’s misery, just over a week later, he sadly got plagued with another painful blow.

He had been served for a divorce.

After a numbingly long walk, he found himself sitting on a lone bench in Central Park.

Stuck inside his own mind, he attempted to focus on the massive trees and greenery surrounding him.

He wasn’t sure if the greenery was bringing him comfort or if it was in fact upsetting him even more.

He shut his eyes for a moment. He could hear the wind in the leaves and tried to visualize himself somewhere else.

Dean’s porch.

The stables.

The cabin.

But the city noises ruined it. Car horns and general commotion. Even deep into the park, there was no escaping this.

Castiel reopened his eyes and sank into the bench.

“Can I sit here?”

Castiel frowned. Aware that there were many free benches, he was annoyed a complete stranger would purposely sit next to him. He really didn’t feel like speaking to anyone.

But, wishing to not be impolite, he nodded and slid himself to the left, leaving room for them.

Castiel kept his eyes up front, hoping the person would understand he was not in a talking mood, as he felt them take their seat next to him.

For the following few minutes, it seemed that his new bench companion was also in a contemplative mood, which he was grateful for.

But it didn’t last long.

“I know I shouldn’t have favourites, but I always liked you best. You’ve always been the kindest of my brothers.”

Castiel turned his head and saw his sister, Anna, sitting next to him. He stared at her in disbelief, not moving a muscle. Her hair was still of a bright red color, but much longer than since he had last seen her. With the exception of a line or two around her eyes, and her grown up attire, she looked exactly the same.

“It’s good to see you,” she said with a small smile.

Speechless, Castiel nodded and slowly turned his head forward.

“So, what are you doing here?” asked his sister.

Castiel started laughing and looked back at her, completely at a lost. “What am _I _doing here?” He swallowed. “What are _you _doing here? How are you he—how did you find me? Here? Where have you been all this time?”

There was a hint of sorrow in her eyes. Watching the pigeons in front of them, she repositioned herself on her seat and she said, “I went by your place and saw you walk out.”

“You followed me all this way from my apartment? That’s…disturbing.”

“I needed to speak with you. I know I—I haven’t been around much. I’m sorry. I hope I can change that soon. But today, I’m here on behalf of the family. Sort of.”

Castiel snorted. “We still have one of those? How fascinating.”

“Don’t be like that. That’s a tad pushing it.”

“I think that’s underrating it actually.” He huffed. “So? What does Michael want this time? To tell me he was right? Or that he’s furious I ruined his plans? Am I being booted out of the family? What?”

“I’ve spoken to Michael, yes. And, um, he had a lot to say. All venting and there’s nothing much to it.”

“Right.”

“But that’s his problem—and he has a lot of those at the moment, so he really shouldn’t talk. But I’m not here because of Michael.”

Castiel frowned.

“Father sent me.”

Castiel winced. For a moment, he believed he must have misheard her.

When he glanced at her, however, Anna was retrieving an envelope from her purse, and his name was written on it with the undeniable handwriting of his father.

“I’m to play messenger and give you this.”

He studied her briefly and extended his arm to take the letter.

But Anna moved her hand backwards. “I need to say a few things before, however.”

“A lecture _and _a letter from Father on the same day? I must have really screwed up,” said Castiel.

“It’s not a lecture. A few simple questions. From me, not him.”

Castiel took a deep breath. “What is it then?”

“You didn’t answer my question earlier,” she pointed out. “What are you doing here?”

“Beside having an aneurism, you mean?”

“In New York, Castiel. Why are you in New York?”

“It’s where I live. Where else am I supposed to be?”

“You know where. You—you know with whom you should be.”

Castiel glared at her.

“I know about Dean. Why aren’t you with him?”

Castiel felt a pang in his heart at the mere mention of Dean’s name. Feeling exposed, he shifted on his seat, resolute to focus his gaze in front of him.

“Cas? Answer me. Why aren’t you with—”

“I can’t. Anna. Just—I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Too much happened. Not enough. I don’t know anymore. I can’t go back. De—it was clear what the final decision was. I just got a massive reminder today, so no turning back. And I’ll survive wherever. Just not in Montana with—with him.”

Anna looked at him for a very long time.

“Dean is not in Montana anymore.”

Castiel turned.

“What? Where?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t have my prime source anymore—”

“Your what now?” he said, cutting her off.

“Michael is not the only one who can keep tabs on someone from a distance.”

“That’s not—I swear, this fucking family.”

“But from what I’ve heard,” she continued, “Dean is in Europe.”

Castiel flinched. “He—” He shook his head. “Yeah, that’s a lie.”

“Maybe. But I don’t think so.”

“He just…took off and left the ranch? That’s what you’re telling me?”

“He still owns the ranch and everything. He wasn’t pushed away if that’s what you’re worried about. But it appears he’s been away for a little while now.”

Castiel was suddenly upset. The idea of Dean traveling in Europe, a thought that would have brought him so much happiness and pride before, was now leaving him with a sour taste in his mouth. With the divorce papers, the boots, and now this, it seemed that, unlike him, Dean didn’t have any problem moving on.

“Why are you telling me this? Why do you care?”

“I always cared, Cas. And based on what Henry did, I think he cared a whole lot too. And so does Dean.” And Castiel shut his eyes, holding down a lump in his throat. “I was so happy when I heard you were at the Winchester ranch.”

“You were?”

“Of course. I know Father—I told you, you always were the kindest. And I always hated that you’d lost a friend after all that. A friend was what we all desperately needed at that time. You couldn’t do anything about it back then, but you can now.”

And that was when she lost him. Castiel clenched his jaw and shifted in his seat as he crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

“I sincerely doubt that, considering everything that happened.”

“But—”

“He told me to leave. He sent me back my stuff with a defini—he filed for divorce. He knows where I am, and now that he’s apparently a big traveler, I don’t think it would be an issue for him to stop by, if that’s what he wanted. But he didn’t. He didn’t say anything. Or do anything.”

Riled up, Castiel was shaking all over.

“Maybe he tried,” she suggested. “Or maybe he thinks you are the one who is done with him. You did leave.”

“He told me to!” he snapped at her. “I told him I wanted to stay and I never fucking meant something that deeply in my life, even if—” he stopped as his voice was breaking. He swallowed hard and took a minute to calm himself down. “Why are you telling me this? Even if Dean—I still can’t. It’s not just about the ranch. Or Dean. It’s about everyone else.”

“Yes. I’ve heard about Kendricks. Or Hess, should I say.”

“How do you know all this?” he muttered under his breath.

“But that was a while ago,” she continued, ignoring his last comment. “I know he has new investors, and given he’s confortable enough to leave the ranch, that might mean a good thing, no?”

“Comfortable? Maybe he’s desperate.”

“Why don’t you find out?”

Castiel took a deep breath, shutting his eyes tightly. “You can’t tell me this and then let me think that—if I try and it doesn’t—I can’t. This is too cruel.”

“But Cas, you don’t know. I think—”

“No,” he barked, resolute to end the conversation. “Can I have my letter, now?”

Anna observed him for a short moment. She pursed her lips and glanced at the envelope. She opened it and retrieved the letter inside. She deeply sighed, lifted her hand, and just as Castiel thought she would give it to him, she tore it apart quickly into small pieces.

He grabbed her hands in an attempt to stop her, but it was too late. The damage had been done and the tiny pieces of paper were already being carried away by the wind.

“What the fuck, Anna! That was mine!”

“You don’t need it.”

“Fuck, that’s not for you to decide. You—that was my letter.”

“And I repeat, you don’t need it. I know because I’ve read it. I know because it was pretty much the same letter I got a long time ago when I put a toe out of line. And it took me far too long to figure it out for myself, but I know that you don’t deserve what’s in that letter.”

“But—”

“Cas, trust me, okay? Who cares what he wants? Who cares what he has to say? What they all have to say. Father. Michael. Hell, everyone.”

She stood up and hauled her purse on her shoulder. She stuck her hands in her coat pockets, and looked at him directly.

“I know our choices have always been somewhat limited. But you still pushed through. You did your own thing, even if it must have been incredibly difficult. Giving you that dumb letter would have done you a disservice. Why should you care what someone who ignored you all this time has to tell you? I know I haven’t been present much for you. But—I—I was told I was a bad influence and to keep my distance. And I stupidly listened. I still kept an eye on you though, and you seemed okay. But not since you’ve come back. Which is why I’m here. So listen to me for a minute.”

Anna looked him straight in the eyes, with a serious, yet compassionate look, and said, “Don’t be an idiot like me. Don’t wait decades for nothing. Not only should I have simply ignored what they—but you two already lost enough time as it is. Don’t lose another decade until someone else dies to make you come to your senses. I don’t know what’s going to happen. But don’t you want to be sure? Don’t you want to give it your all? It wasn’t fair you two were kept apart because of some external feud then, and it certainly isn’t fair now. The difference is that you’re both old enough to potentially do something about it today.”

Hit by her words and genuine intention, Castiel couldn’t help but feel himself momentarily lean towards her reasoning.

“So? What’s it going to be?”


	15. The End

Castiel absolutely refused to put himself through this agony another time.

That was what he told himself the moment he left Anna’s side and dawdled back home.

That was what he repeated to himself when he briefly stopped at a secondhand bookshop he randomly noticed on his way there.

Or when he waited in line for his order to be ready at the Noodle House near his place.

And when he opened his door and saw the divorce papers laying on the floor where they had fallen from his hands during his panic earlier that day.

No. He would not allow his mind to ponder that possibility, because he knew it was pointless. And he knew what would come of it.

He was still barely holding his shit together. He had no desire to return to square one.

He picked up the papers, left them in a messy pile on his counter, and walked to his living room to eat.

He dropped on his couch.

In front of his mouthwatering bowl of noodles.

And stared blankly into space.

For a very long while.

Lost in his thoughts, battling reasons and emotions, listing pros and cons, he stayed in that fashion well after his noodles turned cold.

Castiel sighed deeply.

He was furious with himself for even considering the idea. He was terrified of what would happen to him if nothing came of it. And terrified if something _did _come of it.

Feeling his heart racing, he shook his head as he shifted on his seat.

His instincts and his self-preservation side were screaming no.

But he glanced around his apartment. A place that had meant everything to him before. And all he saw was a place conveying a grim desolation.

And then, before he knew what he was doing, he asked himself, deep down, “What would you regret more?”

He shut his eyes tightly, holding his breath. His fingers gently twisting his ring hanging from the chain around his neck.

“Fuck.”

Even if he knew it was unlikely.

Even if he knew his problems wouldn’t be solved by the simple fact that perhaps Dean wasn’t done with him.

Even if he knew the pain it may bring.

He pulled out his phone with shaking hands.

And just as he was about to press on Dean’s number, he froze.

He immediately dropped the phone on the coffee table and sank into his couch with his hands over his face, breathing deeply.

None of it made sense.

Anna’s input.

The divorce papers.

The boots.

The investors.

Henry’s letter.

Dean travelling.

Dean telling him to leave.

Dean fearing he would leave.

Everything was contradictory.

But if what Anna had told him was true, he didn’t want to fuck it up. And he had no idea what to say to him. What to ask. What to keep to himself.

But he had to try something.

After another deep breath, he picked up his phone again and dialed.

But Dean wasn’t the one he called.

He decided, for pragmatic reasons and for his own protection, that he should verify first if some of the information Anna had implied was accurate before calling Dean.

So, he called Sam.

The beginning of the call was awkward. Although Sam was genuinely happy to hear from him, there was an obvious politeness in their exchange.

After a short chitchat where they greeted each other and Sam told him everything was “Okay,” with everyone, Castiel knew he had to quit stalling and make his point.

“So, um, Sam?” he said, clearing his throat. “As you evidently know, there’s a specific reason why I’m calling you right now.”

Sam sighed. “I gathered as much, yes,” he said calmly.

“I—I heard a few things and—I wanted to call to see if it was true, but I didn’t—I thought I should check with you first. So it won’t be—in case it’s not true or…”

“What is it?”

“Well, I—okay I heard Dean is not at the ranch. That he is in fact travelling in Europe. Is that true?”

“Yeah,” said Sam. “That’s true. He left a couple of weeks ago. He visited a few spots at the beginning of his first week there. Scotland at first, but he—he’s in Italy now.”

“Italy?”

“Yeah. It was supposed to be a short visit—for business purposes—but he decided to extend his stay.”

Castiel couldn’t help but smile.

“That’s—that’s amazing. I—I can’t believe he managed to do it. I mean, I can. But…”

“I think we know who helped make this possible for Dean,” said Sam in a kind voice.

“I—um, I also wanted to ask,” he said, unable to comment on what Sam had just said, “how is everything at the, um, ranch?”

Sam waited a moment, and then said, “Everything is fine. There’s been a few adjustments, but everyone is pulling through.”

“Like what?”

There was another short pause and Sam said, “Cas? Why do you ask?” Castiel swallowed, weighing on what to say. “Cas?”

“I—I don’t want to upset Dean or myself, but—but I heard—I miss him,” he finally blurted out. “I know I can’t—everything is messed up. And he told me to leave and I can’t come back, but I miss him.”

“Oh, thank fucking God. I—Dean said—whatever, Cas. Please, come back.”

“Dean said what?” he asked, worried.

“Doesn’t matter. You—you ask him. I—there’s a lot of things I want to say, but Dean has the right to say it himself. And if not telling you is gonna force you two to speak, then I’m keeping my mouth shut forever. I—I really, really think you guys should talk. At the very least.”

Castiel swallowed hard. “I want to Sam, but it’s—I don’t know.”

“Cas, I—look, I’m not going to pretend like I know everything that happened, because I don’t. Dean—he shared the main points. It wasn’t difficult to get a general idea though, but he’s still Dean. I know he didn’t tell me everything and probably kept a lot of important parts to himself.”

Castiel bit his lips.

“But—” continued Sam, “but however this turned out, Cas, this is not what Dean wanted. The fucking opposite. I’ll tell you that.”

“Why did he file for divorce, then?” Why send him back his stuff? Why the letter? Why tell him to leave? Why?

“He had—he—I—fuck, just talk to him. Please. I know not everything will be magically fixed and—but Dean fucked up. The only reason why I didn’t tell him so is because he was already fucking tormenting himself over it. But please, now that I know you’re—just talk to him.”

“But the ranch. The investors. The—what—what about everything else?”

“Just _please _talk to him.”

Although Castiel wasn’t completely convinced it would be a good idea, he asked Sam what time he believed would be best to contact Dean.

Unfortunately, Sam had bad news on that front. Reaching Dean was a bit of a hassle, as it turned out. Dean was always the one calling, from an unknown number—and often from a different location—and this, only for a few minutes at a time.

The cell phone and Wi-Fi coverage, he claimed, were pitiful where he stayed. Calls. Texts. Skype. Facetime. All out of the question. It appeared that the surest way to reach Dean would be through email. Dean did not, however, check his mailbox on a daily basis, nor had he been overly descriptive or enthusiastic in his replies.

Sam confessed that he was pretty sure Dean was purposely isolating himself.

And Castiel was convinced of it too.

But this complicated everything.

While he was partially relieved he wouldn’t have to debate if he should call him or not, as it seemed impossible to do so, it then left him with two options to reach out to him.

Email, which Castiel thought would be a very bad idea for what he was trying to accomplish.

Or he could, of course, go see Dean himself. In person. In Italy.

Which was an unequivocally perturbing thought. Especially if he couldn’t warn him beforehand. Creating an awkward situation on an international scale was not what Castiel aspired for in the least.

But he felt somewhat encouraged by Sam’s eagerness to let him know every bit of information he had concerning Dean’s whereabouts. He knew the address, how Dean had managed to get there, what the place looked like based on Dean’s (limited) description when he had first arrived, and so on.

So, on the very next day—fed by a moment of folly, no doubt—Castiel found himself on the side of a dirt road in Tuscany. The van he had taken with a small group of tourists to visit the vineyard Dean was staying at had dropped them off at the main building’s entrance to a gorgeous property.

A villa. A vineyard. And a ranch.

The villa was impressive to put it mildly. On his way there, Castiel had imagined a secluded and quiet, yet charming and splendid establishment in the middle of nowhere.

Not so much. The scale of the villa was actually much more impressive than he had anticipated. While it was definitely secluded and quiet, despite the large number of visitors, the vastness of the surroundings was what surprised him. It nearly looked like a castle to him.

But it was gorgeous. The warm yellow brick with pale green windows trim had a rustic touch to it and was embellished by the symmetrically structured front garden.

Facing the entrance, Castiel caught a glimpse of a luxurious pool and terrace on the left side, giving view to the fields.

As much as he wished to explore the premises of the hotel, he knew that he had to direct himself past it, just as Sam had explained.

Knowing he would have had a bit of walking, Castiel had only brought a backpack with him. In case his journey turned out to be a horrible mistake, he had left his suitcase at the hotel in the town nearby where he was residing.

A thought that he attempted to not dwell too much on.

Down the dirt road, he ventured past the stables, just as Sam had told him. At first he was worried he would wind up somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be, or that he would be stopped by the few people he met on the way, but so far every directive from Sam had panned out, and everyone on the road simply saluted him warmly.

After a long walk where he got to admire the field of grapevines, as well as large olive trees spaciously surrounding it, he came across another small dirt road leading away from the field and towards a series of large stone pines.

He strolled along this beautiful path, until he reached a large open field, and continued past the well, just as instructed by Sam. This place was truly beautiful.

And then he saw it. A bungalow. And the instant Castiel set his eyes on it, he knew why Dean would have loved staying there.

It almost looked like Henry’s old cabin.

Almost.

It was hidden just behind a large tree. And although it wasn’t made of wood, but rather of white and gray stone, it was charming, private and cozy looking like Henry’s cabin. Nothing extravagant. Simple, but practical. And beautiful.

Right beside the front door, there was a small, round iron table with two chairs underneath a small pergola with vines of honeysuckle over it.

No one appeared to be home.

Castiel could feel his heartbeat increasing as he approached the peaceful property. He knocked on the old wooden door and it swung open.

He glanced around, hoping someone would make themselves known to reassure him that he was in the right place.

He knocked again and said a shy “Hello,” to announce himself for good measure. But no answer.

He pushed the door open further and peaked inside.

The first thing he noticed by the door was a pair of cowboy boots.

Dean’s cowboy boots.

“Dean?”

No answer.

He stepped in slowly, feeling a tad guilty at invading his privacy. Or anyone else’s if he was in the wrong place.

But then he spotted a pie on the kitchen counter.

As he walked towards the table, he suddenly noticed multiple picture frames on the wall to his left.

Curious, Castiel stepped closer.

Photographs of Dean’s grandparents’ wedding. Of Dean and Sam and their parents in front of _Baby_. Of Henry, Sam, Jessica, Dean and the whole crew dining in one of the big rooms at the ranch.

And then, one of Dean and Castiel. That same picture of them riding the same horse in their youth. The one that Henry had kept.

And it was right next to the one Dean had taken of them at Christmas on their midnight ride.

The photograph of Castiel and Dean, eating fruits, siting on the grass, barely five.

Of them playing with Sam and a kite.

Of Castiel and Dean dancing, wearing their Halloween costumes. A picture Castiel wasn’t even aware existed and had no doubt been taken by someone from the ranch.

Of Castiel smiling at the book market.

Of Castiel driving _Baby_.

And the one where they were kissing in the garden of the hotel.

They had taken a lot of pictures during their months together. Most of it had just been for fun memories.

But these. These photographs that Dean had handpicked among so many, were their truest moments.

These hadn’t been for a pose.

These had been genuine.

And they were all over Dean’s newly acquired wall.

He turned his attention to the buffet underneath the picture frames and saw every single book Castiel had bought, all neatly lined up. And one was on the kitchen table, a bookmark sticking out of it. The classic he had been reading when he had watched over Dean after their trip to the hospital. An empty cup of tea and a jar of honey rested next to it.

He heard something fall on the ground behind him and turned abruptly.

Dean was standing in the doorway, staring at him in disbelief. A linen bag laid at his feet with apples rolling on the floor.

“Cas?”

They looked at each other, assessing that, yes, they were truly standing in front of each other.

“Cas, I—” He swallowed hard. “I—I can’t believe you’re here.”

Gawking at him with wide eyes, he then stepped towards him, smiling, with his hands lifting up to embrace him.

And the moment Castiel realized what Dean was doing, to Castiel’s own surprise, he found himself taking a step back away from Dean.

Even if he had eagerly awaited their reunion—to see Dean in the flesh—even if he had came all this way to do so, it appeared that Castiel nonetheless still held resentment towards him.

Dean froze and his smile disappeared at his resistance.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas, I’m—I—what are you doing here? How—did you know where I was?”

Castiel took a deep breath. “Sam. He told me where to find you.”

“Sam told you? Like he—he called you?”

“No. I called him. I—I needed to talk to you.”

“Is—are you okay?”

Castiel let out a snort. He diverted his eyes away from Dean and swallowed hard. “Am I okay?” he repeated. Clenching his jaw, he turned his eyes towards Dean. Looking at him, standing in front of him, after all this time, after everything, he became aware of how furious he was with Dean. “No, I’m not okay,” he snapped at him.

Dean held his breath, watching him with worry.

“Cas, what—”

“Dean, I—I,” he started saying, but stopped. He was too angry. This was not what he had wanted. This hadn’t been the plan. Coming here and yelling at Dean or stirring up a fight was the last thing he wanted to do. But in that moment, he knew that everything that would come out of his mouth would be with rancor. All he could think of was that Dean had told him to leave and that he had stupidly came back to him.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” he said, shaking, “I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t know why I came here. I—I have to—”

And he started dashing towards the door, not wishing to stand there one more second.

“Cas, wait. Wait! Stop, please.” Dean stepped in front of the doorway blocking him. “Please, don’t go.”

“Dean.”

“No, please. What—you came here for a reason. Please, tell—tell me.”

Castiel shook his head.

“Cas—”

“I’m too mad, Dean! I feel ridiculous. I don’t—this is not a good idea. I need to leave.” He tried to slither himself between Dean and the entrance, but Dean didn’t budge.

“Dean,” he warned him. He tried to push through, but Dean caught his arm, and the next thing he knew, Dean had his arms wrapped around him tightly.

“Please,” said Dean in a broken voice, with his face buried in his neck. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for what I said. I should have never let you—I should have never fucking said it.”

“You still fucking said it.” He wrestled himself from Dean’s grasp. “You. When you were the one worried I would—_you _told _me _to leave.”

“I know, Cas. You don’t think I regretted it?” Dean leaned back to look him in the eyes, but he held on to him by his wrists to keep him still in front of him. But his grip wasn’t tight. Not at all. “It fucking killed me to say it. But I couldn’t—I—please don’t go. Let me explain.”

Irritated, Castiel briskly freed himself from Dean’s clutch and stepped away from him.

But he didn’t leave. He walked past the table, crossed his arms over his chest and let out a deep sigh.

After a moment of silence, he asked, keeping his back to Dean, “Why Italy? And what—what about the ranch?”

“The ranch is okay. I—I took care of everything.”

Still not looking at him, Castiel said, “Meaning what?”

He heard Dean taking a deep breath. “I, um, the first two weeks after you—after the deadline, I did what I was planning on doing. Quickly. I bought out and got rid of the people that were most urgent.”

“Like Adler.”

“Yeah. And, well, you know who.”

“How? I know you have money, but—that surely didn’t cover everyone.”

“No. It didn’t. I sold a few of my other businesses. Took out loans. I—anyway. I was going through the process. It was long. Exhausting and stressful, but it’s—I had to do it. Not—not just because it needed to be done for the ranch, but—but because it was the only thing I could do if I could ever have a hope of you coming back.”

Castiel shut his eyes and tightened his grip around his chest.

“Cas?”

“What happened?”

“It was going well. Slow, but well. But—but like you said, I still had a lot of people to go through and I was running out of options. I—I was getting desperate. I knew none of this would just go away. I was seriously considering just selling the whole place. I—but after the third week, Mick Davies called me.”

Castiel frowned. He turned around, facing Dean.

Dean had remained in his spot in front of the entrance, as if he was guarding it.

“Mick Davies? Hess changed her mind?”

“No,” said Dean, lowering his eyes. “But Mick, aware of what had happened, he—he wanted to help us. He heard of someone he thought would be a good investor and he told me to check it out. And the tip was good. A widow. It’s a long story, but it worked out. Her and her daughter visited the ranch, fell in love with the place and they just stayed.”

“They stayed?”

“Yeah. After what happened—losing her husband, I mean—she—they felt like they wanted a new start. They said they looked around, but nothing really gave them a good vibe.”

“Until the ranch,” said Castiel, almost smiling.

“Yeah. So we reviewed everything and I told her the situation at the ranch, and the next thing I know, buying out everyone else was not a problem. I thought she’d push to co-own the place as a condition, and honestly, I would have been fine with it, but she didn’t. Being a major—generous—investor was enough. And they are helping at the ranch. She’s staying on the land. She’s living in one of the new properties with her daughter. She’s an adult, the daughter, I mean, so I guess after a little while, she’ll get her own place too, but for now, I think those two are good with this arrangement.”

“And they work at the ranch?”

“Yup. Um, Ellen, that’s the mom, she, well, neither of them know very much about ranching, but as you know, it’s possible to learn. But Ellen has good people skills. She used to run a bar before her and her husband lucked out on the money front years ago. And her daughter Jo gets along well with Donna, and she’s been shadowing Rufus since they got there. Granddad would have loved them.”

Castiel nodded, taking in the information. “So, you’ve gotten rid of everyone from Crowley’s list and managed to find an even better alternative to Hess.”

“I got rid of more people than Crowley’s list,” said Dean.

Castiel lifted his eyes, confused.

“I—when I said that I told Ellen of the situation, I didn’t mean just the ranch. I meant _our _situation. Why I needed to clean house. So after I finished Crowley’s list, I went back to the other investors who were supposedly in our corner, but had threatened me that they’d leave if you stayed when I had asked for their help. And I made them the same deal. That I would buy them out if they still felt the same because I had every intention of bringing you back. I’m pretty much done with working with anyone who is just an intolerant piece of crap.”

Castiel held his breath. “How many did you lose?”

“A lot. But not as many as I had expected. Some came back on their word and stayed, and some even increased their funds. But many left. I didn’t stop with investors. I did the same with some boarders who had been….” He cleared his throat. “But the ranch is okay now. There’s still a lot to be done, and all this is a step back. I will have to find other investors, new contractors and clients—and a bunch of other stuff,” he said, sighing deeply, nearly exhausted at the thought.

But he stared at Castiel with kind eyes and said, “But none of this matters. That’s details now. Manageable details. And it gave me what I wanted: the ranch is safe. For you. For us. No one can hold anything over our heads anymore. No one has the right to—you can come back.”

And while Castiel was thrilled, relieved and even touched at hearing this statement, he also felt his anger slowly resurging.

“If that’s case, Dean, what the—why didn’t you tell me? Before I left. Or after. And _why_,” he snapped, as he opened his bag, retrieving his papers. “Why the fuck did you send me this, then?” He threw the divorce papers on the table. “Why didn’t you call me? Come to see me? Why!”

“I did! I did—I—look, I’m sorry!” He stepped forward, wanting to reach out to him, but stopped himself. He froze on his spot and let out a deep sigh. “I’m so, so fucking sorry for that day, okay? I fucked up. I panicked. They said that—that they would—” Dean shut his mouth, unable to finish his sentence.

“They said what?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“You kicked me out. It does matter. What did they say?”

“Cas.”

Castiel remained silent, but he continued shooting him an angry look.

Dean swallowed. “It wasn’t just investors or—boarders, my own clients started to call too. Most of them simply said they’d leave, but some flat out threatened you. _They threatened you_. Some got wind of the whole Michael thing, and even though there was no way of proving it, as it’s not true, they threatened to pin the whole thing on you and—it doesn’t matter now, because they’re gone, and all of it was bullshit anyway. But I just—I couldn’t put you through that. Not again. Not if I could help it.”

He ran his hands on his face and took another step towards Castiel.

“That’s why I let—let you go,” he whispered. “But I had every intention of getting you back. Of making sure you could come back.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this, Dean?”

“Because I didn’t know how well I’d succeed. I didn’t know if I would! I didn’t want to tell you in case it didn’t work. But I should have. The longer it took me, the harder it got to tell you. I knew I should have told you, but I didn’t want you in the crossfire. I didn’t want to give them one reason to get to you and if you stayed…Once Ellen showed up that was the first time I actually thought we might be able to get through this. I made sure everything was in order, everyone was on board, so I wouldn’t get any other surprises and then I left for New York.” Dean swallowed. “I knew a call wouldn’t do it. Not after…I didn’t want to chicken out. Fuck, I just wanted to see you anyway.”

Castiel was more confused than anything. “And what happened? You got lost on your way there? I never saw you.”

Dean shook his head and lowered his eyes. “I saw you. With your friend. _Boyfriend._”

“What?”

“I saw you with your—I stopped at your place. You weren’t there. I stayed in your building waiting for you to come back, which made me feel like a complete creep, by the way. And you came back with him. You weren’t wearing your wedding ring. It was late and when it was clear he wasn’t leaving…I came back the next morning just in time to see him leave your place.”

Castiel’s heart was racing. “Are you talking about Balthazar?”

“I know you two are close. I always thought—anyway. But even if you were with him—”

Castiel lifted his hand, signaling Dean to stop right there.

“Dean, I—yes, Balthazar is a close friend. A good friend who has been glued to my hip ever since I came back because he was trying to make sure I kept breathing and I hadn’t flung myself off a freaking building or something. I would have never—but—the point is that he’s just a friend.”

Castiel took a step closer and pulled his chain from under his shirt, revealing his ring. “The only reason I’m not wearing it is because I nearly lost my damn mind every time I saw it. But I couldn’t part with it. Even if—”

“So you’re not with him?”

“No. I never—of course not. Fuck, Dean. Do you have any idea how I felt after? And I get how it looks from your point of view, but even if that would have been the case, you still could have told me you were there!”

“I didn’t want to ruin your life a second time,” he said.

They observed one another for a long time, until Dean cautiously stepped closer. Castiel felt Dean’s warm fingers brush his.

“Can you tell me why you’re here, Cas?” he said softly.

“I’m not done asking questions,” Castiel pointed out. But he was not mad anymore.

“You can ask me any question you want. I’ll answer every one of them. But please. Cas. You said you needed to talk to me.”

Castiel swallowed.

“Someone suggested that I should reach out to you. They didn’t say how, but they implied that the circumstances of the ranch had changed.”

“Who? Sam?”

Castiel shook his head. “No. My sister.”

Dean blinked.

“I—I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to let myself believe it. If it wasn’t true I—” he cleared his throat. “Dean, the last month—since I left…it was hell. I was so confused about everything. Just as I thought I was getting better I received the boots and the letter. I didn’t know what the hell to think about it.”

“I sent you those because I thought you were with him. I still wanted you to know how I felt about you. I thought—I was sure you wouldn’t answer my call, so I thought if I sent you that you would have known I still—that I was still…I thought you’d call. If you still felt the same.”

“Dean, I didn’t know about the situation at the ranch. As far as I knew, nothing about that had changed. I couldn’t figure out if you were trying to tell me you missed me or that you were moving on. Either way, I was really upset. All of it just hit me again. Then, I received the papers and I concluded you were done with me.”

Dean shook his head vehemently. “No, Cas.” He squeezed his hand and reached for his other hand. “I’m not. Not even close.”

“Why the papers, then?” he said with a quivering voice.

“I—I had to. It was our agreement. When you accepted my proposal, you had told me that morning that we had to start the process of terminating the marriage within two months after the deadline.” Castiel’s stomach dropped. “You had given me two months so I’d have time to—anyway, it was your idea. We never discussed what we were going to do if you stayed…but with everything that happened, I had no choice. I still had to honor that.”

Castiel had completely forgotten about that detail. They had discussed it rather quickly on the morning of their wedding and it hadn’t been something he had reflected on ever since. There had been many other—and more pressing—points his mind had focused on.

Assessing his expression, Dean said, “You forgot about it?”

He nodded. “I really thought you were just moving on.”

And Dean pressed his lips against his and gave him a long lingering kiss. And the second it happened, Castiel felt his doubts melt away.

He instinctively eased his hands upwards to Dean’s back, pressing him against himself just like he had grown into the habit of doing.

Dean slowly broke the kiss and rested his forehead against his. “I missed you so much. It was like—Cas, you know I love you, right?”

His heart jumping in his chest, Castiel said, “I love you too, Dean.”

Instant relief spread through Dean’s face and he pressed a kiss at the corner of his mouth. “And as for missing you,” he said in a low voice to Dean, “I—it was really difficult after. I would be lying if I didn’t say I kind of scared myself. When I thought you—that you didn’t care anymore…”

“Castiel, listen to me,” he whispered. Dean leaned his head backwards a little to look him properly in his eyes. With one of his hands on his cheek and the other holding Castiel’s hand in between their hearts, he said, “Everything I have done since you left was to make sure you could come back to me safely. Everything. Even letting you go in the first place, which pretty much killed me. I was a wreck. I never wanted to let you go. I just wanted to make sure you’d be okay.”

And Castiel believed him.

“I don’t know how it was for you,” he continued, “I’d like to hear about it and I’ll tell you my end if you wish, but I am just so fucking happy you’re here. With me. I want to be with you. And now that I am lucky enough that you’re—I will do whatever I have to do to keep it that way. I’ll beg or—whatever. I am never making that mistake again.”

A faint smile formed itself on Castiel’s face. “I appreciate the idea, and though I believe that would be quite something to witness, I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Dean.”

“After being separated…to know how much…Cas.”

And Castiel brushed his lips with a small kiss. “I came here because I missed you, Dean. Even though I feared it might only end badly, I had to see you. Just to be sure. And now that I know why….”

Dean, nearly sobbing, wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tightly. Castiel buried his face in his neck, as he kissed it, smiling.

“Cas, I don’t care where we go. It can be at the ranch. It can be in New York. We can stay here, or go anywhere you’d like. I just want to be with you. That’s all I want.”

“I think we both know where we should be,” he said, smiling. “But we don’t need to rush back home right away, no?”

Dean let out a laugh. “No, we don’t.” They were facing each other again and Dean rested his hand on his chest, smiling brightly. “We don’t even need to decide right away.”

And that is when something occurred to Castiel. “Dean? I’m curious about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I know Sam said you left for business, but why did you end up staying here?”

“Oh, that.” He gave him a warm smile, took his hand and said, “Come, I’ll show you.”

Dean directed Castiel towards the entrance and Castiel followed him outside behind the house.

“After the ranch was in the clear,” he started saying, “I—I needed a distraction. I had done it all for you to come back and then it didn’t seem like you would. I had a little too much time on my hands and...” he sighed. “Being on the ranch, without you there, it became—I needed to get out of there. We still needed more investors—and clients. And now that I had lost a big chunk of people who used to do my legwork…it was time I started doing it myself. I looked back through the list Granddad had pulled together last summer and there had been a few names we hadn’t gotten to yet. Normally I would do this over the phone or via Skype, but given the situation, I thought a face-to-face would drastically increase my chances. I, um, hadn’t been in a hurry to reach out to them at first because they weren’t exactly in our backyard. But after everything, I decided I should try. It felt surreal. But I was okay. I met a lot of interesting people. But it was all business.”

They had reached a shed, hidden beneath large, thick trees, and Dean stopped in front of it. “I was missing the ranch, but I was enjoying myself. So I started visiting other ranches around. And then I found this place. It’s massive. And gorgeous,” he said, gesturing behind them.

“Part ranch and part vineyard, I heard,” said Castiel.

“It is,” he said, smiling. “The property was impressive and the staff was great, so I decided to stick around a few days just to take it in. I felt good about this place. The food was delicious. All of it. And it always seemed to have a little something to it that I couldn’t put my finger on. On the third day, I think, I was eating a snack. Super simple: a piece of bread with ricotta and honey. I wanted to die. I couldn’t believe how something that simple could be so delicious. When I told them how much I enjoyed their food, they said it must be because of the honey. They include it in all their meals. As it’s _their _honey.”

Castiel frowned. Dean opened the door and nodded at Castiel to go in. The shed consisted of five long rows of shelves, filled from top to bottom with small, dark yellow jars. Castiel turned to Dean, questioningly.

“They said I could visit their apiary on the other side of their property, with a guide of course,” continued Dean, guiding him through one of the aisles. “I know nothing about bees or honey, but I was fascinated by it. Their beekeeper spoke very good English, so I asked if there was any way I could extend my stay a month in order to learn as much as I could about it. I knew it was a long shot and extremely unusual, so I was ready to pay them, but we came to a deal. It just happened that they were in dire need of a stableman. The next thing I know, I’m renting this little bungalow on the property—at a massive bargain price—and I’m shadowing this guy when I can, and all I have to do is help them during peak time in the morning and afternoon at the stables.”

He picked up a jar and gave it to Castiel, who was stunned at his story.

“Obviously, even after a month, I still won’t know enough to carry this on my own, but I thought if we find someone back home with the proper expertise, that could be something new and interesting to add at the ranch. I told Donna about it and she eagerly took it upon herself to find out what and who we need to set this up.”

“Dean, that’s—that’s—this is amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. That’s fantastic. I—I can’t wait to see it.” He lifted his eyes, biting his lips. “Can I see it?”

“Of course. I had a feeling you’d be interested in it.”

“I am. Definitely.”

“Good. Because we will most likely need help at the ranch with that. There’s just one thing though,” said Dean, after putting back the jar and slowly heading towards the door.

“What?”

“I’ve been trying to think of a name. If we make honey and a bunch of other stuff, we will need a brand name for it. Any ideas?”

“You know me and names,” Castiel said. “Other than _Winchester’s Honey_? What do you have so far?”

They exited the shed and after Dean locked the door, he said, laughing, “_Castiel’s Angelic Honey_.”

“That is such a lie,” said Castiel, chuckling. “You were not going to name it that.”

“I swear I was.” Dean was desperately trying to keep on a serious face, as they continued walking towards the bungalow. “You have a go, then.”

Castiel squinted at him for a moment and said, “_Dean’s Wayward Beeswax_.”

They burst into laughter.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he said, grinning.

“I was trying to use another word than ‘wild.’ You don’t like it?”

“I think we’ll need to work on it.”

They had reached the front door again, but as Dean was about to step in, he came to a halt and turned towards Castiel.

“What is it?”

“I forgot to ask,” said Dean. “Where are you staying? How—how long?”

“Um, I booked a room for a couple of days in town. I—I wasn’t sure if—I didn’t want to be presumptuous. Or jinx it.”

“We’ll get your stuff and bring it here?” said Dean, beaming at him.

Castiel nodded, smiling at the prospect of staying with him in this place.

“Okay.” Dean avidly stepped into the house and Castiel followed him. “I think we can probably borrow one the cars. I just need to ask. They allowed it a few times when I needed to go in town. If not, then we can just catch one of the vans that—”

“Dean?” Castiel stopped him, laughing. He reached for his hand. “Do we absolutely have to go this moment? The trip will take us a few hours altogether. I—can we wait until tomorrow? I just really want to stay here with you right now.”

“I have no problem with that,” said Dean, resting a hand on his waist. “But, um, you won’t need anything?”

“For the night, you mean?”

Dean nodded, holding down a grin.

Castiel took a moment to observe him, assessing his delightful state. “I confess I might need to borrow a few things.”

“Such as?”

“Usual toiletry stuff.”

“I can help you with that. I’m all about sharing.”

“How kind and generous,” said Castiel, sliding one hand over his shoulder.

“I try.” Dean pulled lightly on his shirt. “What else? A pair of pajamas?”

Castiel smiled.

“Hmm, you know what?” said Dean. “I think I’m all out of those.”

“Are you, now?”

“I’m afraid so. Even for me.”

“That’s very unfortunate.” 

“I know. But I think they are grossly overrated.”

“That, I agree with.”

And Dean leaned in to kiss him.

But Castiel stopped him, smiling.

“Before that, I have a few questions for you still,” he said, pointing at his chest, mockingly severe.

“All ears,” he said, licking his lips.

“Well, I couldn’t help but admire your wall of pictures. And I have noticed that you brought my books along with you.”

Dean groaned and dropped his head, embarrassed.

“How exactly did this all happen?”

“I had most of the picture stored in my phone. It wasn’t that difficult to print them. Once I knew I’d stay for a while, I wanted to make the place feel a bit homey.”

“And the books?” said Castiel.

“I had brought a few along with me. Sam sent me the rest. They just arrived a couple of days ago.”

Castiel nodded and added, “I would very much so like to know what you thought of them.”

“I haven’t read much of those. I—I’m not like you. Your speed reading skills are astonishing.”

“I still want to know. Which one did you read?”

“I may have read some of the fun ones. The one about the bank robber.”

“Did you? That’s interesting because I haven’t read that one yet.”

“You didn’t?” asked Dean, shocked.

“Nope. I’d very much like to hear about it.”

Dean chuckled. “Well, um, it reminded me of an old movie I had seen when—” Dean had started saying, but he then tilted his head and bit his lips. He put his hands behind his back, and adopting a smug expression on his face, he said, “I would like to tell you, but I think I should pace myself with this information.”

Amused, Castiel said, “But you agreed to tell me anything I asked of you.”

“Oh, I will. Scouts honor. But I think we are slowly delving into a particular subject that I think would be more suited to be shared under a specific occasion. Like at a certain time of day—night. As per _our rule_.”

Castiel leaned his head back, understanding what Dean was getting at. “I see,” he said, very as a matter of fact.

“We haven’t done that in a while. And I’m—I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” said Castiel. “But it’s not night yet.”

“Nope.”

“I guess we’ll have to find something to do until then.”

“I guess so.”

“Any suggestions?”

“I have many ideas. You?”

“Do you have any grapes lying around?”

Dean smiled and said, “I’ve been somewhat deprived.”

“At a vineyard?”

“Yup. Imagine that.”

“That’s not fair. I think we need to fix that.”

He leaned in and kissed Dean gently, as he ran his fingertips softly on his neck.

“You think we can pull this off? Like…everything?”

And with his heart full, feeling giddy, Dean said, “With you, Cas, yes. Anything. Together we can.”

“Together.”

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the third fan fiction I’ve written in its entirety, but it is the first one I had the chance to post in its entirety. Which is weird, and yet, I like it.  
A massive thank you to [Danica_Dust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danica_Dust/works) again. Like really! You're the best!!!
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](https://thefandomsinhalor.tumblr.com) !!! I ramble a lot about spn and other fandoms!!  
Thank you for the mods of the Destiel Harlequin Challenge to have made this possible.  
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!!!


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